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THE GRAFTONS; 


LOOKING FORWARD. 


A STORY OF PIONEER LIFE. 



-:S;=:Er ROGERS, 
u 


CHICAGO: 


X 1093 

1 /¥tf?y 


MILTON GEORGE PUBLISHING HOUSE. 






V> 


Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1890 by 

I 

S. L. ROGERS, 

In the ofi&ce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


PREFACE. 


He who reads this story without having previously been made aware of the con- 
ditions surrounding the yVestern farmer, will very likely consider it overdrawn and 
the remedies proposed chimerical and revolutionary. But let him inform himself by 
actual, thorough and sympathetic inspection of the manner of life lived by the farmer 
and his family and he will conclude, as the writer has done, that less than what is said 
in these pages will not answer the pressing need of the time and that the immediate 
future may see very much more demanded. 

Twenty years, spent as the owner and occupier of a farm upon which sons and 
daughters have grown to man and womanhood, have formed the opinions relating to 
the future of the farmer herein declared. Much of that set down in these pages may 
be termed “experience,” while all is Uue. 

I cannot refrain from expressing the hope that “The Graftons,” which with ma 
has been a labor of love, may be received without prejudice and read without malice. 


The Author. 



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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I 

The Farmer and His Family 5 

CHAPTER II. 

Mary Grafton 8 

CHAPTER III 

"Who Maketh Them to Differ ' ii 

chapter TV 

"Money Answereth All Things" 14 

chapter V 

Leaving Home ' 17 

CHAPTER VI 

Facing a Frowning World ao 

CHAPTER VTI 

Life's Trials 22 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Branchton 25 

CHAPTER IX 

The Lawyer 28 

CHAPTER X 

Questions and Answers 31 

CHAPTER XT 

Mary at Home 38 

CHAPTER XTI 

Mr Ellery in Trouble 44 

CHAPTER XIII 

Care and Counsel 48 

CHAPTER XIV 

Thoughts and Words 53 

CHAPTER XV 

Sorrow 63 

CHAPTER XVI 

Grief 66 

, CHAPTER XVII 

The New Home 69 


U CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Duty 73 ' 

CHAPTER XIX 

The Student 76 

CHAPTER XX 

Opinions 80 

CHAPTER XXI 

Studies 84 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Progress of the Campaign 87 

CHAPTER XXIII 

After the Election 91 

CHAPTER XXTV 

Something Happens 94 

CHAPTER* XXV 

The Orphans 98 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Wrangling 102 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Dawn 104 

CHAPTER XXVIII 

The Sun R'.ses 108 

CHAPTER XXIX 

Sunshine iii 

Is the World Getting Better.... 1x4 


THE GRAFTONS, or LOOKING FORWARD. 


For, brother, men 

Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 
Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it 
Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
Would give preceptial medicine to rage. 

— Much Ado Abotd Nothing. 

CHAPTER I. 

rrHE FARMER AND HIS FAMILY, 


OTHER, do you think I ought 
to go? Oh, I hope I can.” 

‘ Why Mary, you know as 
well as I, that all depends upon the crops 
and the weather. Your father wishes you 
to go and if it is possible to raise the money 
necessary to send you, you will certainly 
be sent, but it is so uncertain about the 
crops.” 

Mrs. Grafton sighed as she said this, for 
she well remembered how often her hopes 
had been raised, only to be destroyed by 
the failure of the crops upon which the 
family depended for a living.^ 

The daughter was a sweet faced, brown 
haired girl, apparently about sixteen years 
of age; the mother a care-worn woman of 
forty, with a refined and intelligent face, 
bearing the marks ol a faded youth which 
evidently had not been without personal 
attractions. 

Mrs. Grafton was a farmer’s wife and 
bore the imprint of her class. Hard work, 
care and the wearying responsibilities of 
her position had caused her to lose the 
light hearted gaiety which had been a 


prominent trait in her character as a girl, 
while in its place there now appeared a 
chastened and somewhat constrained 
cheerfulness which, somehow gave the be- 
holder the impression that tears might 
readily flow from her eyes upon slight 
provocation. “A sweet woman who has 
seen trouble,” came almost involuntarily 
to the mind of the beholder on first meet- 
ing her. The daughter, as became her 
youth, was yet free from the marks of 
that care which destroys so much of the 
pleasure of life and so early gives to most 
Americans that sorrowful expression, seen 
when the countenance is in repose, start- 
ling even to those closel}" connected, if un- 
expectedly encountered. 

Mary was a pleasant faced girl of about 
the usual height. Her figure was trim 
and shapely and her full brown eyes 
glistened with a light which betokened in- 
telligence and vivacity. She was the 
daughter of a farmer in humble circum- 
stances, burdened with debt and struggling 
wearily along the path of life, yet who 
cherished for his daughter the highest as- 



6 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


pirations. Nothing, indeed, seemed to 
Mr. Grafton too much to hope for his 
Mary, and in pursuance of his design of 
giving her the best educational facilities 
possible, she had been encouraged to 
think of leaving home to attend a superior 
school which was located in a neighboring 
town. 

Mr. Grafton himself was a well informed 
man, having in his youth attended the 
higher schools attainable in the immediate 
vicinity of his youthful home and these 
studies having been follow’ed through life 
bv an earnest endeavor to inform himself 
at every opportunit^L He had been an 
omnivorous reader and being possessed of 
a g,ood memor}' and endowed by nature 
with a vivid imagination, his descriptions 
of what he had read were eagerly listened 
to and he had thus easily influenced his 
daughter in her tastes and in the choice of 
her books. Unconsciousl}' to herself her 
thoughts and aspirations had been di- 
rected toward a higher education than 
seemed possible at home, although, thanks 
to her father, she had already advanced 
much farther in general literature than is 
usual with country girls of any age. 

Mr Grafton well knew that as a pupil in 
an educational institution she would 
acquire more from her surroundings and 
the minds with which she came in contact, 
than from the books which she might 
study. At best, the theories and facts ac- 
cumulated there, form only the tools with 
which future work may be done. 

Fortunate was it for Mary that her 
parents possessed the qualifications which 
distinguished them. Mrs. Grafton’s gentle 
manner and retiring disposition was yet 
tempered by a firm and unwavering advo- 
cacy of whatever she regarded as lovely 
in character or elevating in tendency. 
Mary was the eldest child and the only 
daughter; a younger brother, a mere child, 
completing the family. 

Mr. Grafton had emigrated to Kansas 
from Ohio some ten years previous to the 


opening of our story. He had been en- 
gaged there, in one of the larger towns of 
that State, in mercantile business. The 
failure of a friend whom he had heavily 
endorsed at the banks, occurring at a 
critical time in his affairs, caused his own 
business overthrow. But he was com- 
paratively young, and having been him- 
self a farmer’s son, his thoughts seemed 
irresistibly turned toward the life to which 
he now looked back with regret. 

A change must be made, that was sure, 
and gathering up the remnant of his means 
he came to Kansas and bought the farm 
upon which he had since resided. He was 
a grave and thoughtful man possessed of 
great depth of feeling, which however was 
not to be noted upon the surface. For his 
family he had thesincerest affection, which 
it is needless to say, was fully returned. 

Mrs. Graftpn deeply sympathized with 
her daughter in her desire for an educa- 
tion and intellectual advancement and yet, 
mother like she feared to have her 
daughter leave her, even for a time ever so 
short. While mother and daughter were 
still engaged in discussing the probabilities 
regarding the wheat crop upon which in 
large measure would depend the ability of 
the family to send her away, Mr Grafton 
came hurriedly into the house and said: 

“It is going to storm, mother." 

“Why so it is,’’ hastily replied Mrs. 
Grafton, looking out at the window. 
“Come Mary, you must help me get the 
chickens safely into the coop, and we can 
talk about going away at another time.” 

Mr. Grafton went out to make every- 
thing fast about the stables and mother 
and daughter hastily caught up the smal- 
ler chickens in their aprons and drove the 
larger ones with the bustling hens before 
them, to their place of refuge. 

Before they could finish their errand the 
rain, accompanied by a fierce looking 
cloud and a heavy wind, was upon them. 
Running hastily to the house they man- 
aged to get inside the door just as the 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


7 


heavily charged cloud burst upon them 
with all its fury. The lightning with its 
blinding glare, a furious wind which drove 
the rain up under the shingles and fairly 
shook the little cottage with its fury, ac- 
companied by peal, upon peal of thunder 
caused all thoughts of anything but the 
violence of the storm to leave them. 

A moment after, Mr. Grafton dashed in, 
vvet to the skin, and amid the noise and 
roar of the storm the voice of a child cry- 
ing with fear, came from the next room 
"Poor Charlie” came simultaneously from 
all three, just as the little fellow threw 
open the door and ran sobbing to his 
mother for protection. He had been 
asleep in an inner room and wakened by 
the storm, had at once sought that wonder- 
ful refuge, a mother’s arms. 

The storm ceased almost as suddenly as 
it came. The sun soon shone out and the 
family went out to see how much destruc- 
tion had been wrought. Mrs. Grafton 
however soon returned with a box full of 
half drowned chickens, which she placed 
near the stove, that the warmth of the fire 
might revive the feeble spark of life which 
barely fluttered in their naked and chilled 
little bodies. The force of the wind had 
been so great that although the large hay 
stack, containing Mr. Grafton’s entire 
stock of hay, had been crossed at the top 
by wires attached to heavy stones at the 
side, its top had been blown off by the wind 
and the hay wet to the center. Mr. 
Grafton made the circuit of his wheat field 
and found that while the growing wheat 
was much of it felled to the earth by the 
violence of the wind and rain, yet as it 
had not advanced far enough to make a 
falling down final, no great damage had 
been done. It was yet green and would in 
a day or two resume its upright position. 
Feeling thankful that he had escaped a 
visitation of hail which might have pounded 
his crops into the earth, he slowly made 
his way toward the house. 

As usual, the storm had come up towards 


the close of the afternoon and night began 
to fall. Mr. Grafton having only himself 
to depend upon in the work of the farm 
and his wife insisting that she "would just 
as soon milk as not” Mary and herself had 
this homely duty in charge. Mr. Grafton 
busied himself with the horses, fed the 
squealing pigs, helped in. separating the 
cows and calves, made all snug for the 
night and only as it became too dark to see 
did he retreat indoors where "mother,” as 
he affectionately called his wife, was busy 
in quieting little Charlie, who was fretful 
and sleepy, and at the same time endeavor- 
ing to put away the milk in the cellar and 
sweep out the water from the kitchen, 
which had been blown by the violence of 
the storm, under the door. Mary employed 
herself in getting supper 'and talking to 
her father, as he sat near the stove, at 
which she was at work, of the damage done 
to the wheat. 

"Will it hurt it much, father, do you 
think?” said she. 

"Why, no, I hope not,” he replied. "Still 
all is uncertain and there are yet many 
chances for loss.” 

"If we cannot raise the money for you, 
Molly, this year, we will try to do so next, 
and you will only be seventeen then.” 

"Oh dear!” she sighed, "the very idea of 
putting off for another whole year what I 
have looked forward to for so long, is so 
disheartening.” 

"I know it is and we will hope for the 
best, but you must not set your heart upon 
going so strpnglyas to be unable to bear the 
disappointment or a failure of our plans.” 

Supper was now ready, and although it 
was nearly nine o’clock, the family sat 
down to the evening meal at the earliest 
possible moment at which it could have 
been made ready. Before it was ended 
little Charlie was fast asleep in his weary 
mother’s arms, and although it was very 
late the dishes were yet to be washed and 
put away. When all was done and the 
family sought repose, it was with aching 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Dones and weary hearts, filled with nameless 
forebodings of possible misfortune in store. 

CHAPTER II. 

MARY GRAFTON. 

M orning found the Graftons early 
astir. And as the air, refreshed 
by the shower of the previous 
evening, was most delightfully invig- 
orating, laden as it was, with the odor of 
growing vegetation springing into life, 
they cheerfully and hopefully began again 
their daily round of duties. 

After feeding the animals Mr. Grafton 
could not refrain from taking a hasty look 
at the wheat field, the boundaries of which 
were not far distant from the stables. It 
was still very largely prone flat upon the 
surface of the ground, but a close examina- 
tion convinced him that it was uninjured 
by the rough treatment it had received. 
Each blade glistened with moisture in the 
rays of the rising sun, and as the slight 
breeze of the early morning caused it to 
flutter gently in the air, for a moment 
there came over him a sense of the beauty 
and loveliness of nature, causing his heart 
to rise in thankfulness to the great and in- 
comprehensible source of the world of 
beauty spread out before him. 

Just then he heard little Charlie calling 
him, at the stable, where he had been sent 
to summon his father to the morning meal. 

“Here I am, Charlie,” said he, as the 
little fellow came into sight in his search. 
“Mamma say dinner weady. Pa.” 

“Well, I am ready too,” said he. “What 
has she got for us?” 

“Oh mos’ eversing I dess.” 

Taking him in his arms Mr. Grafton 
walked slowly toward the house, amusing 
himself meantime by talking to the child 
whose opening mind was eagerly seeking 
to know the reason for all which met his 
wondering gaze. 

“What made the lark sing? and Why 
had he a yellow breast? Was he glad? 
Did birds sing only when they were glad? 
Was that what made Mary sing? Did God 


like little birds? and if a bad man shot the 
little bird would God be sorry?” and fin- 
ally, “What made men be bad?” 

Mr. Grafton could not answer, and he 
realized that the child who was just learn- 
ing to talk, had already propounded the 
question of the origin of evil, which stag- 
gers the mind of the philosopher. 

One thing distinguished the Graftons; 
as the family met around the table, whether 
well or scantily spread, each strove to 
make it a season of light and innocent 
gaiety. Whatever of disquiet might be 
weighing upon them it was thrown off and 
each endeavored to bring something to the 
common fund of enjoyment. This, which 
had become a habit with them, had un- 
consciously become not only a source of 
pleasure, but had also served to draw the 
members of the little family more closely 
together in thought and feeling. 

Seated about the breakfast tabl'=", little 
Charlie began to tell his motner of the 
“buful” little bird and how nicely it sang. 
“Oh!” said Mrs. Grafton, “that puts me 
in mind of one of Charlie’s speeches yes- 
terday morning. We were out in the 
garden and I was planting some seeds and 
had forgotten him for a moment, when I 
found that he had stuck a feather in the 
ground, which he had picked up, and 
smoothing the dirt carefully around its 
base, he said: ‘Now see, mamma, it will 
grow up a hen, won’t it?’ ” 

All laughed good naturedly at Charlie 
and his hen, while the cl:iiJ appeared in no 
wise cast down at what seemed the prob- 
able failure of his crop. 

“Mary, you must go up to town and get 
some groceries,” said Mrs. Grafton “I 
did not know that we were out of coffee un- 
til this morning, and then there are some 
other things which we must have.” 

“I would go,” said Mr. Grafton, “but I 
must finish cultivating the north field.” 

“O! I will go,” said Mary, “I can ride 
old Jim and that will leave father the good 
team to work with.” 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


9 


Thus it was arranged that Mary should 
have the side saddle placed upon ^ large 
old horse which had long been the property 
of the family and was now only occasion- 
ally called upon to perform a portion of 
the work of the farm. 

After breakfast Mr Grafton saddled the 
old horse and brought him to the door 
where Mary was ready to mount, Mr. 
Grafton helped his daughter into the sad- 
dle and Mrs. Grafton stood near with a 
basket containing some choice butter 
which was to be carried to a lad5^in town 
who had requested it sent upon the first 
opportunity. 

The big old horse made but a sorry 
mount for so fair a burden and as Mr. 
Grafton assisted in handing up the basket 
and looking to the security of the various 
straps and buckles, he sighed as he realized 
how rough and uncouth a figure the old 
horse and rather shabbily dressed girl 
would make in the eyes of the fastidious. 
As he placed the little shoe in the stirrup 
and noteJ the rough and well worn leather, 
a suspicious dimness came into his eyes as 
he felt how little he was able to assist in 
the training of one for whom he thought 
nothing too good. 

Mary saw nothing of this, she was a 
country girl, unspoiled by the fashionable 
follies of the day, and while she dearly 
loved beauty and beautiful things she was 
yet able to put away all thoughts of what 
she knew she could not obtain 

Old Jim was honest and true and gravely 
jogged along. The morning air was like 
wine, to Mary’s naturally joyous spirit and 
she hummed softly to herself the strains 
of the ballads she loved, until almost be- 
fore she thought it possible she was at the 
hitching rack in town where she had been 
told to leave her horse, while she busied 
herself with the business of the morn- 
ing 

Plainville was a little town of some five 
hundred inhabitants. It was a railway 
station and boasted of a dozen stores, a 


bank, a grist mill, two or three churches 
and the usual amount of scandal and jeal- 
ousy. People of all kinds there were; 
some good, a few bad and many quite in- 
different. It was an ordinary village, 
neither town nor country, without the ad- 
vantages of either and having some of the 
evils of both. p 

As Mary drew near the rack, which was 
just at the edge of the sidewalk and near 
the store she intended patronizing, she saw 
among the loungers standing near, the 
swaggering form of John Busteed, the 
worthless son of the wealthy man of the 
village. Mary had often with her mother 
visited at several residences in the town 
and knew many of the people. Of Busteed 
she knew enough to despise him. 

Seeing that she intended stopping, John 
came forward and proffered his services in 
helping her to dismount. This she in- 
stantly determined to prevent. 

“I believe, sir,” said she, “that I do not 
need your assistance; Mr. Weldon, will you 
please take my basket a moment?” 

“Why, certainly, certainly I will. Miss 
Mar}',” said Mr. Weldon. 

John colored with anger and slunk away, 
to meet the derisive winks and nods of the 
bystanders. 

As soon as relieved of the heavy basket, 
Mary sprang lightly to the ground and 
tied old Jim, in a way that convinced the 
onlookers that she had often done the like 
before. . ' 

' Mr. Weldon was the village blacksmith, 
a man of vigorous frame and speech, who 
though now growing old, did not tiesitate, 
if need be, to back up his rather free way 
of speaking, with muscular force. As this 
was understood to be his way, from tradi- 
tional reports of a former time, and as his 
manner gave promise, upon occasion, of 
an instant “falling from grace,” “Uncle 
Bill,” as he was familiarly called, was 
allowed to say and do pretty much as he 
pleased. 

Mary pinned her riding skirt to the 


lO 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


saddle and taking the basket from Uncle 
Bill, at once sought the home of the lady 
to whom the butter had been sent. 

She had gone but a short distance when 
one of the loafers spoke up: 

“Well, John, you got the mitten that 
time.” 

“The little minx, I’ll get even with her 
for that. I wouldn’t a cared it it hadn’t 
a been for this crowd a standing around.” 

“Pooh! John, she is too smart for the 
likes of you,” 

“Well now,” said John, with a meaning 
leer, “I’ve got even with girls just as 
smart as she is afore now.” 

“You’d better make your peace with 
God, if you harm George Grafton’s girl,” 
said Uncle Bill. 

“Who’s George Grafton? He aint no- 
body. Just one of them poor farmers that 
you can buy for ten dollars a head.” 

“George Grafton is what you never will 
be — a man — and if men were selling for 
ten cents a head, you couldn’t buy the 
little finger of a man, if it wasn’t for your 
dad’s money. Grafton is a quiet man, but 
that girl is like the apple of yereye to him 
and if he needs any help — why he can get 
it— that’s all.” 

A chuckle of endorsement of Uncle Bill’s 
little speech wdnt round just as the elder 
Busteed approached, who was gradually 
made aware of what had occurred. 

“George Grafton is bringing up that 
girl with too high and mighty notions,” 
said he. “There he is, poor and in debt 
further than he can see a way to pay. He 
haint got no help. His boy is a girl, and 
they tell me he is talkin’ er sendin’ her to 
college or some such fool notion, and they 
say he spends at least fifty dollars a year 
for books and papers and sich. It is well 
enough for a man to have a decent educa- 
tion. I • suppose he’s got that, now why 
don’t he stop foolin’ with books and try 
and make some money.” 

“Grafton is a good worker,” ventured 
one of the loungers. 


“Yes, maybe he is, but he don’t manage 
right.” 

“Well how ought he to manage?” 

“Well he aint no use for so many’’ books. 
They say he’s got a house full now, and he 
don’t need more’n one good newspaper. 
The county paper is enough for any 
farmer to read. Then them reform notions 
er his is enough to put any man down. Let 
the farmers tend to their business and we’ll ' 
tend to ourn.” 

Mr. Busteed was a director and reputed . 
heavy stock holder in the local bank; his 
business consisted as he himself expressed 
it, in looking for “soft snaps” He was a 
speculator, a buyer of grain and an occa- 
sional loaner of money at unmentionable . 
rates, standing ready to buy up property 
of any kind, when its owner stood in dire- 
ful need. Although all his efforts were 
directed towards taking advantage of the 
necessities of his needy fellow creatures, 
he veiled his deeds with a thin gloss of 
very ordinary religion. He made no pre- 
tensions to sanctity and although a mem- 
ber of the Presbyterian church, he seldom 
attended the prayer or official meetings of 
the society, but when it came to cash sup- 
port, he gave more money than any other 
five members and thus came to be the most 
influential member the church possessed. 
Indeed, without him it seemed impossible 
for the church to exist. His son was an 
idle, worthless rake of twenty, who as a 
boy had been guilty of all the meanness 
possible to mean boy’^s, and who as a man 
bid fair to eclipse his youthful record. 

“Now there’s that girl,” he continued, 
“she ought to help her folks, no use of 
her reading po’try or anything er that 
kind. She ought to work out, she could 
earn at least two dollars a week, then if 
she was away from home her board would 
be saved and that’s two more; that’s two 
hundred dollars a year; for ten years that 
alone is two thousand, but handle it right, 
put the savings of each year out at inter- 
est or employ it more profitably, and in- 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


II 


Stead of two thousand, in ten years it 
would be four or five more than George 
Grafton is worth. Yes, she ought to 
work out; there is Miss Busteed wants a girl 
now.” 

“You and me,” said Uncle Bill, “ain’t 
fit to have that girl in our houses; we 
wouldn’t know how to treat her, why blame 
your old hide there is the real glory in 
them great brown eyes of hers. I ain’t 
got no son but if I had one like John there, 
I’d know better than to mention such a 
thing.” 

It was Uncle Bill and Mr. Busteed ven- 
tured no reply; he noted sharply, how- 
ever, the action of those whose looks and 
nods betokened special approval of the 
free speech, and muttering something like 
“you’ll see, you 11 see,” he strode hastily 
away. , 

CHAPTER III. 

“WHO MAKETH THEM TO DIFFER.” 

S Mary returned to the store, 
after leaving the butter at the 
house to which she had taken it, 
the loungers, who still remained where she 
had left them, moved very politely out of 
her way as she entered the store. Mr. 
Baker, the keeper, who was aUo the village 
postmaster, saluted her quite pleasantly: 

‘ Good morning, awful nice morning 
ain’t it? Got lots of mail for your folks,” 

“Ah, is that so, are there any letters 
for us?” 

Why, I believe so,” said he, “but your 
box is more’n full of papers, you see the 
magazines is come.” 

Mary expressed pleasure at having the 
magazines to. read; the coffee and other 
articles were soon purchased and all 
placed in the basket she had brought; she 
led old Jim up to the sidewalk which 
answered the purpose of a horse block; a 
moment more and she was in the saddle, 
Mr. Baker brought out the basket and 
handed it up to her and she was on the 
road home. 

As soon as she got out of the village, the 


horse moving gently along she took from 
the basket in front of her, the various 
newspapers and magazines, looked each 
over hurriedly, reading a little here and 
there. Opening a magazine she read what 
a wealthy lady had given as a description of 
her mode of life, and this is what she read: 

“We breakfast about ten. Breakfast oc- 
cupies the best part of an hour, during 
which we read our letters and pick up the 
latest news in the papers. After that we 
have to go and answer our letters, and my 
mother expects me to write her notes of 
invitation or reply to such. Then I have 
to go into the conservatory to feed the 
canaries and parrots and cut off the dead 
leaves and faded flowers from the plants. 
Then it is time to dressfor lunch and at two 
o’clock we lunch. At three my mother likes 
me to go with her when she makes her calls, 
and we then come home to a five o’clock 
tea when some friends drop in. After 
that we get ready to take our drive in the 
park, and then we go home to dinner, and 
after dinner we go to the theatre or the 
opera, and then when we get home I am so 
dreadfully tired that I don’t know what to 
do.” 

Mary had read very much more than 
most girls of her age; she knew that the 
life thus described was lived by but very 
few in our largest cities, but as she closed 
the book and strove to imagine the life 
thus brought before her, the utter vacuity 
of such an existence, was most fully im- 
pressed upon her. How could sensible 
people live, such a life. Ah, hers was a 
preferable life, she thought. The dear 
faces at home rose up before her and with 
a glow of exultation she patted poor Jim as 
the only representative at hand, of the 
little band, dearer than all the world beside 
to her. 

Turning over the newspapers her eye fell 
upon a paragraph and this is what she saw: 

“THE MISERY OF THE VERY POOR. ” 

“In a New England town the other day, 
a newsboy hardly higher than the platform 



12 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


was run over by a horse car and fatally 
hurt. What did the self supporting baby 
of six years do, when writhing in the 
agonies of a terrible death? 

He called piteously for his mother. Why? 
To shriek piteously upon her breast? That 
she might clasp him while the surgeon 
worked? Ah, no. It was to give her his 
day’s earnings. 

“I’ve saved ’em, mother,” he cried. “Fve 
saved ’em all Here they are.” 

When his little, clenched, dirty hand 
fell rigid, it was found to contain tour 
cents. ’ 

Mary’s eyes filled with tears. Were 
there people like that? Did God care for 
the poor? How could he if such things 
were permitted to continue? And yet she 
knew that this was but one of a thousand 
daily incidents in the life of the cities, 
where brilliant sights and horrid scenes 
are so inextricably comingled. What a 
world this was; how much of happiness and 
ah! how much of misery. 

As she rode up the lane at home and 
came near the house, her mother, who had 
been on the watch, came out to meet her; 
giving her the basket she sprang lightly 
from the saddle and throwing her arms 
about her mother, impulsively kissed her. 

The watchful mother noted the tear up- 
on her daughter’s cheek, although her 
eyes were laughing and her face was 
wreathed with smiles. 

“Why, Mary,” she began, “has anything 
happened to you?” 

“Oh no, mother dear, but I was just reading 
something which made me feel so sorry, and 
when I saw you and thought what a pleasant 
home I had and how much I loved you, I 
couldn’t help hugging you just a little.” 

Mrs. Grafton was ^ too wise a woman to 
make many inquiries. She knew her 
daughter’s impulsive spirit; she had full 
confidence in her, and for the moment 
busied herself in helping Mary as they 
tugged at the dry old straps and rusty 
buckles of the saddle. Taking it off she 


placed it upon the spacious back porch, 
while light-hearted Mary led the old horse 
to the pasture, swung open the gate, and 
stripping off the bridle, turned the faith- 
ful beast loose to crop the short grass. 

Just then she espied her father coming 
in to dinner from the field. By going 
across the corner of the pasture she 
could readily intercept him as he came up 
the farm road, and this she did, actually 
running part of the way, that she might 
meet him at a certain bend in the road 

Mr. Grafton was driving the team, which 
with dangling chains and rattling harness, 
were swinging heavily along, while he 
walked behind. Mary came up and put- 
ting her hand in that of her father’s, they 
walked along“swinging hands” like a couple 
of school girls. 

At first neitherspokea word; at last Mary 
broke the silence, saying: 

“Father, what makes such a difference 
in the conditions of life, in which people are 
found?” 

“Why, what makes you ask that?” said he. 

Mary then related what she had been 
reading, saying that the great difference 
between the very rich and the very poor 
was to her a mystery, if all were the chil- 
dren of God, who loved all alike. 

Opportunity makes people, and the lack 
of it prevents them,” said he. “Don’t you 
remember what Gray says:” 

“Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear. 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” 

“Oh yes,” said she, “so many' people 
never have a chance; opportunity doesn’t 
come to them. Why is it?” 

“Up to a comparatively recent period, 
orthodox people comforted themselves with 
the theory of Rev. Dr. Malthus, as an an- 
swer to this question,” said Mr. Grafton. 
“This theory held to the belief that the 
increase of population in the world tends 
to outrun the means of subsistence. That 
more people are born into the world than 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. I3 


can properly be cared for. That wars, 
pestilence, famine and hardships gener- 
ally, are the God-appointed means of thin- 
ning out an undesirable increase. That 
God has created more people than he can 
care for and that he then sets men to kil- 
ling and destroying one another, in var- 
ious ways, as a means of getting rid of his 
own mistakes. This theory was very con- 
venient and consoling and laid all blame 
— if blame there was — upon God. Great 
generals and small persecutors consoled 
themselves with the idea that they were 
co-TTorkers with Deity in the necessary 
work of the world. In much the same way 
the people who held slaves in this country, 
a while ago, found a passage in the scrip- 
tures which they took a great fancy to. 
old Noah cursed one of his grandsons, 
saying: “Cursed be Canaan, a servant of 
servants shall he be to his brethern,” and 
the southern divines held, without the 
slightest authority, that Canaan symbol- 
ized the black race and that as Noah in 
the Bible had cursed Canaan, they were 
carrying out the work of the Lord in 
America by holding negroes in slavery. It 
was a very slim foundation, but what there 
was came from the bible and they made 
much of it for the reason that they could 
lay the blame on Noah or the bible. The 
real truth then was, as it is now with the 
poor creatures you were pitying a while 
ago; the whole trouble comes from the in- 
sane and murderous greed of man. 

“Now-a-days there is another passage 
that people who are engaged in ‘keeping 
poor people in their places’ are very anx- 
ious to quote and that is, Christ’s saying 
at a particular time, 'the poor always ye 
have with you but me ye have not always,’ 
as though he meant people to assist in the 
work of making poverty permanent, but if 
they will only look it up, they will find 
that this was really said in opposition to a 
protest of Judas, and a preceding verse ex- 
actly describes the people who are repeat- 
ing what Jesus said without noting the 


circumstances. It is: ‘This he said not 
that he cared for the poor; but because he 
was a thief, and had the bag and bare 
what was put therein.’ ‘Man’s inhumanity 
to man makes countless thousands mourn.’ 
That’s the foundation of the whole trouble. ” 

They had now arrived at the stable 
where Charlie was awaiting them, and as 
Mr. Grafton stopped to take the little fel- 
low in his arms, Mary drew the reins from 
his hands, tied them in the proper rings 
and deftly unharnessed one horse before 
Charlie had finished telling his father a 
wonderful story about a little bird which 
the house-cat had caught and eaten. The 
other horse was quickly stripped, Mary 
led them to the trough, while her father 
pumped the water for the thirsty beasts. 
Soon they were placed in their stalls and 
all then went in to dinner. 

Just as they reached the back door they 
saw a man driving a pair of ponies before 
a buggy that was moving rapidly along 
the public highway. As he came to the 
entrance to the Grafton place he turned 
and came up at a smart trot. 

“It is Busteed,” said Mr. Grafton, “I 
wonder what makes him come in.” 

“Howdy, Grafton, ’i said the man of 
business, “I was going out to Barnes’ place 
on a little business, and I just drove in to 
let you know that I’ll have to have that 
money sooner than I thought, fact is I 
need it bad; you haven’t it by you, I spose?” 

“No,” said Mr. Grafton, “I haven’t, and 
I did not try to get it, as you told me that 
it coul,d run until after harvest, just as well 
as not.” 

“So I did, but I didn’t know what was 
coming. Well, I’ll have to have it.” 

'“Why,” said Mr. Grafton, “I don’t see 
how I can get it for you unless I borrow it.” 

“No, I spose not, but you can do that, 
can’t you?” 

“Possibly I can, but I do not know who 
to go to for a loan. Can you tell me?” 

“Well,” said Busteed, “I expect the old 
squire is the only chance.” 


14 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Mr. Grafton made no immediate reply, 
for he knew, as did every one in the vicin- 
ity, that old “Squire” Clinch as he was 
called, was but a creature of Busteed’s, 
and Others, who having no capital of his 
own did a precarious business as loan 
agent, and was expected by his employers 
to take advantages which they were 
ashamed openly to extort. 

“Well,” said Mr. Grafton, I’ll try what 
I can do for you in a day or two.” 

Busteed whirled his ponies about and 
with a parting injunction to- “be sure and 
fix that matter up,” he was gone. 

Mrs. Grafton had been a listener to the 
colloquy just related, and as the family sat 
down to dinner, the knowledge of the se- 
rious financial straits they were in, and 
the uncertainty of the future, was for once 
too weighty to be thrown aside. 

“Why don’t you laugh to me?” said little 
Charlie, noting the grave and silent faces. 

CHAPTER IV. 

“MONEY ANSWERETH ALL THINGS.” 

EORGE GRAFTON had for some 
time been “running behind,” as 
the neighbors said. The loss of a 
crop, followed by a long continued time of 
low prices, had reduced his means of living 
to the lowest possible point 

When the farm upon which he lived was 
purchased, he had bought it on “pay- 
ments” and as the crops raised had not 
enabled him to pa}'- the balance of the pur- 
chase money at the appointed time, the 
farm was mortgaged and the money raised 
for that purpose. The mortgage drew a 
heavy rate of interest and formed a serious 
annual charge. He did not look upon life 
as a mere opportunity to collect a store of 
dimes and dollars and so, out of regard to 
what he considered the higher interests of 
himself and family, many opportunities 
for accumulating money were allowed to 
pass as unworthy the sacrifice which he 
felt they would be called upon to make in 
obtaining it. It thus happened that he found 
himself the subject of many criticisms, on 


the part of his neighbors, regarding his 
management of affairs; most of which were 
in the same line as that of Mr. Busteed 
regarding Mary’s services. It thus came 
about that although he had been reason- 
ably successful in his business of farming, 
so far at least as raising crops was con- 
cerned, yet he foun*d that he was not only 
not gaining financially, but was actually 
running astern. And when he compared 
his condition with that of farmers about 
him, he found that his condition was fully 
as good as the average. Those who had 
raised more had also taken greater risks, 
and lost more. Those who had been rais- 
ing cattle had lost heavily in their opera- 
tions by the fall of prices as controlled by 
the manipulators of the great markets. 

The next morning Mr. Grafton went to 
the village, resolved to make some ar- 
rangement, if possible, to obtain the money 
to pay off Busteed, hoping that the wheat 
crop might turn out so favorably as to re- 
lieve his necessities at least for the time. 

Arrived in the town he at once sought 
the bank and was there told that “they 
were not loaning now,” but that they had 
in the vault some funds belonging to a pri- 
vate party which might possibly be got 
with a good, well-secured note, but, said 
the cashier, “if the note suits, he will dis- 
count it, he don’t loan at a specified rate; 
says he’ll buy good notes. How much do 
you want?” 

“I have a note out for a hundred dollars 
that I want to pay,” said Mr. Grafton. 

“You will have to have an even hundred 
then,” 

“Yes.” 

“Well then I expect your best plan will 
be to make a note for one hundred and 
twenty-five and get a good signer and we 
will submit the note and see what can be 
got; I suppose sixty days’ time will suit 
you?” 

“Yes, I can pay it then, I hope, but what 
amount will I realize from the note you 
describe?” 



THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


‘Well, the party who has this money is 
prett}^ hard and he is a close shaver,” 

"Yes, I presume so, but can’t you give 
me an idea of the amount he would allow 
on such a note,” 

"Well Grafton, this man loans money 
for what he can make and he makes all he 
can, and I don’t reckon you would get 
much over the amount you need. Might 
some.” 

"You mean to say then, that he would 
not give much over a hundred for such a 
note?” 

"Well that’s about it.” 

"Let’s see,” said Grafton, "that is twen- 
ty-five per cent for two months time, or 
twelve and a half per cent per month,” 

"O you needn’t to go wild now; that 
aint the way to look at it, it is simply buy- 
ing the note for what it will bring. You 
see money is scarce and a thing is worth 
what it will bring. You make your note 
and if anybody will give more for it, take 
it to ’em, there’s no force to this thing. 
This is a free country.” 

"You know very well that there are so 
few who have any money that they are able 
to take what advantge they please,” said 
Grafton. 

"O, well if you want to get huffy about 
it I don’t believe this party would loan to 
you anyhow, he don’t want no trouble with 
anybody.” 

Grafton turned uoon his heel and left 
the bank; he knew as well as he cared to 
know, that the mythical personage who 
had the money was none other than the 
cashier himself, who thus sought to "turn 
an honest penny.” 

But the money must be had and Grafton 
was determined to secure it if possible. 
He had borrowed it of^ Busteed at "legal 
rates,” or twelve per cent per annum, and 
he was aware that as harvest was ap- 
proaching and the farming community 
being called upon for unusual expendi- 
tures, were at this time nearly all borrow- 
-ers of money in large or small quantities, 


that he should be obliged to pay a 
heavier rate than the note now drew. Re- 
solving to know the worst, he went at 
once to Squire Clinch’s office and made 
known his business, 

"What security have you to give?” said 
Clinch. 

"Well,” said Mr. Grafton, "I guess I 
would as soon give you a chattel mortgage, 
as to ask anybody to go on my note.” 

"What on?” 

"Well, on my big team of horses.” 

"You want a hundred dollars?” 

"Yes ” 

"For sixty days?” 

"Yes.” 

"Well, you make out a note and mort- 
gage for one hundred and ten, and I’ll get 
the money.” 

"Why, that’s five per cent a month,” 
said Grafton. 

"Pooty near it, that’s a fact, but the fel- 
lers that I loan.for is sharpers, they have 
to have their interest, and then I must get 
a little for my work of making loans. Best 
I can do for ye, Grafton, fact is, money is 
scarce.” 

"Well, I’ll see, said Crafton, as he turned 
and went out. 

He went at once to the shop of "Uncle 
Bill” Weldon, the blacksmith. 

In small villages and country places the 
blacksmith shop is a source of neighbor- 
hood gossip unequalled. Men go there to 
have work performed and being away from 
home are obliged to wait upon it. Con- 
versation is certain to ensue regarding 
neighborhood news, scandals and quarrels, 
and topics ranging from the last message 
of the President down to the legitimacy of 
the latest child born in the "settlement” 
are fully discussed and decided. 

Uncle Bill was hammering away at a 
piece of iron aud barely glanced at Grafton 
as he entered; having finished his "heat'* 
and returned the iron to the forge he 
straightened up and began to pump at the 
bellows. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


l6 

“Uncle Bill," said Grafton, “I ^vant to 
speak to you a moment.” 

“All right, sa}' ahead." 

Grafton walked to the further corner of 
the little shop, Weldon followed, and in a low 
tone the farmer said: 

“I’ve got to have some money and I’ve 
been over to the bank and around to the 
old squire’s, but they all want rates that 
no man can long stand to pay; do you 
know of anyone who has a little by him 
that ain't in the regular thieving line?” 

“No,” said Weldon, “I don’t. I did a 
while ago, but being as its getting so 
near harvest a’nd everybody having to 
have more or less, I don’t think you can 
do better than to take up with their offers.” 

“Well,” said Grafton, “if I must, I must.” 

‘ ‘Yes, there ain’t no other show, least ways 
not now.” 

Turning about Mr. Grafton went at once 
to Clinch’s office, made out the mortgage, 
secured the money, secured his note, 
which he found at the bank; thinking as he 
paid it that possibly the mythical party 
who was willing to loan at twelve and a 
half per cent per month had now secured 
another hundred dollars to loan at an in- 
creased rate. He went immediately home. 
As he drove up to the stable Mary came 
out and began to unharness the team upon 
one side while her father was engaged up- 
on the other; practice had enabled her to 
do this very quickly and she had “her 
horse” unhitched and was leading it to the 
water trough before her father had finished 
the one he was engaged upon. 

“Pretty smart boy I’ve got,” said Mr. 
Grafton. 

“I wish I was a boy, then I could help 
you.” 

“Why, don’t you help me now?” 

“O I try to do what little I can; but it is 
SO little and there is so much to be done.” 

“Ah! Molly, you are a great help to me 
as it is. I don’t know what I would do 
without you and the folks in the house.” 

During this little colloquy Mary had been 


engaged in narrowly watching her father’s 
actions and manner, hoping thereby to get 
some inkling of the condition of his mind. 
She knew very well the purpose of his visit 
to Plainville, but she chose not to ask him 
directly regarding this, as she was well 
aware that in case he wished her to know, 
he could readily tell her, and then if from 
any cause he did not wish her to be in- 
formed she had too much regard for his 
wishes to seek to pry into the matter. 

Presently he said; “My plan of going to 
school will have to be given up, wont it 
father?” 

“Not if I can help it,” said he. “Per- 
haps the wheat may do wonders for us." 

“But that is so frail a hope. It isn’t 
possible is it, for us to receive enough from 
that to meet the demands and send me away 
too?” 

“Oh, yes it is possible.” 

“But it isn’t probable?” 

“Why, I fear not; I wish I could say 
something more encouraging, but I can’t. 
You must be a brave girl, Molly, I know 
you can be. You are young. The world 
is all before you, and I feel sure that what 
we all so much desire for you can somehow 
be accomplished.” 

“Then you don’t think I am one of the 
flowers 

‘ ‘Born to blush unseen 

And waste its sweetness on the desert air.’ ” 

“Bless your heart, you are one of the 
flowers, at any rate,” said Mr. Grafton. 
“There comes mother and Charlie for us 
now.” 

It was but a little way from the kitchen 
door to the front of the horse stables and 
Mrs. Grafton having finished her prepara- 
tions for the noonday meal, came out to 
hurry them in to dinner, little Charlie 
running down the gate before her. 

“Father,” said Mary, “you go in with 
mother and I will feed the horses. I can 
just as well as not; you know I am your 
boy now;” and she set her straw hat 
jauntily upon one side of her head, and 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


[saying, "come old fellows, you’ve drank 
enough,” she led the horses to the stable, 
whistling a few bars from ‘ ‘Suwanee River. ” 

Mr. Grafton stood looking after the 
brave hearted girl and as his wife came up 
said: "That girl is a wonder to me some- 
times; isn’t she a jewel?” 

"She had set her heart on going to 
school,” said Mrs. Grafton. 

"Well, we must have her go, if such a 
thing is possible.” 

"Boy,” called Mr. Grafton, quite loudly, 
"give those horses ten ears of corn apiece;” 
and a voice came back from the depths of 
the stable, imitating as well as it could the 
rough tones of a man. 

"All right, sir, just as you say, and not 
that I care.” 

CHAPTER V. — LEAVING HOME. 

T he days come and go. Life is but 
a chain of events following each 
other in uninterrupted succession 
and we are hurried forward to the march of 
time, whether we will or no. 

Thus it was with the Graftons; the Sum- 
mer came and went. Their hopes and ex- 
pectations, as with others, rose and fell 
with the varying tide of experiences forced 
upon them. They did what they could 
and having done this they were still at the 
mercy of circumstances over which they 
had not the slightest control. Every 
cloud that arose in the west made them 
feel their entire dependence upon the ele_ 
mental forces which might within an hour 
deprive them of the ability to pay the in- 
debtedness which hung like a heavy weight 
upon' their minds. Every moment of wak- 
ing consciousness was burdened and even 
the dreams of midnight took on the somber 
hue of possible disappointment and defeat. 

Love sweetened the load. A little love, 
a little hope, with confidence in the recti- 
tude of intent, can sweeten the life of even 
the veriest slave. With these, life is a 
pleasure and each day a new found oppor- 
tunity. 

Mr. Grafton’s harvest had not failed 


17 

him. Despite his fears and exigencies of 
his position, he had been successful, and 
although obliged to make sale of his crops 
to meet his pressing obligations, and at a 
lower rate than he felt sure could be later 
obtained, he yet had been enabled to meet 
the demands made upon him. The im- 
mediate pressure had been removed and for 
the present he was safe. 

The Graftons sympathized deeply with 
their daughter’s desire to attend some in- 
stitution of learning, which they hoped 
might afford an opportunity for enlighten- 
ment,' and a glimpse into that broader and 
higher life of the mind, which once beheld 
and comprehended, lifts its votaries to a 
position from whence they survey the 
tangled web of life with an equanimity and 
confidence felt only by those who have 
learned that the mind of man is indeed and 
truth a kingdom. 

"Mary,” said Mrs. Grafton one day, "I 
have a plan in mind for you.” 

"And what is it, mother?” said she, 

"It is this: we cannot pay your expenses 
at school this year, certainly; and yet I 
feel that the attempt ought to be made. 
Now I have thought that possibly a place 
might be found for you in Dr. McFarland’s 
Institute in Topeka, provided you could be 
able to pay your way by work in the house- 
hold; you know this is a boarding school 
and there must be a good deal of work to 
be done. What do you think of this; would 
you be willing to undertake it?” 

"Why I certainly would if you approved 
of the plan.” 

"As to that I could not tell,” said Mrs, 
Grafton, "unless I could view for myself 
the surroundings and see what would be 
required of you. Of course, as a member, 
of Dr. McFarland’s household you would 
be reasonably safe, but I could not 'tell 
whether the position you would be called 
upon to take would be of any advantage to 
you or not.” 

"I certainly could advance in my studies 
there.” 


i8 


THE GRAFTOXS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


“Yes, but there are other things to be 
thought of,” said Mrs. Grafton. “I have 
talked this matter over with 3'our father 
and we are both of the opinion that the 
onl}' way to settle it definiteK*. will be by 
our going to Topeka and making the neces- 
sary enquiries." 

“It is nearly time for the Fall term to 
commence isn’t it?” said Mar\'. 

“Yes, and if we go we must start not 
later than next week,” 

Youth is hopeful and expectant, it 
“Looks Forward” to the future with pleas- 
ure. Mary was anxious to make the at- 
tempt, and it was decided that Mi s. Graf- 
ton and her daughter should on the follow- 
ing week, go to Topeka and see what 
could be done. 

The few dajs which intervened were 
bus\" with preparation in the Grafton 
household. Somehow it became known 
that Mar\' was to go away to school and 
that she was expecting to attend Dr. Mc- 
Farland’s aristocratic Institute for young 
ladies Mrs. Grafton did not voluntarily 
speak of it, but in the country unless one 
refuses to answer the usual civil enquiries 
of neighbors’ it is almost impossible to 
keep anything long a secret. Being re- 
peated from one to another, the story 
grew to such proportions that the real 
facts regarding the attempt of a poor 
farmer’s daughter to obtain educational ad- 
vantages, and her willingness to do menial 
work to secure them, were distorted and 
made to represent the acts of foolish p>eople 
who desired to ape the manners of those 
above them in the social scale. 

It became at once the topic of general 
comment; Busted remarking that pride 
went before a fall, and that Grafton was 
only making a fool of that girl of his. She 
would get notions that would spoil her and 
make trouble for the familj’. He had 
known, he said, of one such case before; 
the folks were well meaning people enough 
and thought everything of Lucy and sent 
her off to the city and in a little while. 


maybe it was a year or two, she was walk- 
ing the streets a ruined girl. 

Mr. Eller\-, the Presb\-terian minister, 
rather guardedly took an opp>osing view. 
Mary was a bright girl and he felt sure 
would give a good account of herself. 
That she should desire an education he 
thought ver\^ commendable, and if she was 
resolved upKjn obtaining it, her parents 
were doing right in assisting her, at some 
sacrifice, to gratify her ambition. He was 
acquainted with Mr. McFarland, he said, 
and would give Mar}' a letter of introduc- 
tion, which might be of some service. 

The appointed day soon arrived, and 
Mr. Grafton drove to the station with his 
family. Little Charlie was too young to 
fully comprehend what was meant by his 
sister’s departure. 

“You will come back pretty soon won’t 
you, sister,” he said. 

“Yes, dear,” said Mary, “I hop>e so," 
and for the first time the full meaning of 
leaving her home came suddenly upon her. 
She had been occupied with the prepara- 
tions connected with the departure; her 
mother had been constantly by her side 
and knowing that she was to accompany 
her on the journey she had not fullv real- 
ized that the ties, which with her were so 
strong, were so soon to be even temporarily 
sundered. The tears filled her eyes and for 
the moment she was sorry the journey had 
been undertaken, 

“Ma, don’t let Mary* go,” said the child, 
“she will cr}* all the time if you do.” 

‘.O no she won’t; Mary knows that there 
is much to do and that nothing of value is 
ever gained without some sacrifice,” said 
the mother. 

Before leaving the wagon and just as 
they came into the town Mr. Grafton said; 

‘Mary, there is one rule which, if 3*ou -will 
follow, wrill I think, be to you a sure guide; 
it is this; Never do anything which you think 
your father and mother would not approve.” 

“O father," said she, “you know I would 
not do that.” 


THE G2AFT0!rS OE LOOKTSO POSWAZD, 


19 


“I kno^ yocL woald not nair,’* said he, 
“bci: me future aa~ chauze yocu We 
ca n n et tell what oav be ru store for you."* 

As Mr. Grafton said this he took his 
daughter's hand in his and said: “Do yon 
premise, Mary?" 

‘ ‘Yes. " said she, slowly, looking straiffht 
into his eyes, ‘I wilL" 

Mr. Grafton drove his wagon up to the 
dep«3C, helped oct his family and when he 
had hitched his team, came into the station 
httse to wait for the train which was 
snortlv due. 

The arrival and departnre of trains at 
co-untry stations form a connecting link 
between the gay ontside world and the 
dull and rather monotonons existence 
lived by dwellers in country villages. 
Very few inhabitants but what occasion- 
ally congregate at train time to catch a 
glimpse of the rapidly moving train, the 
strange faces and to take note of who 
among them is going away or returning 
from abroad. 

Mr. Ellery was there with his letter of 
introduction, as he had promised; this he 
gave to Mrs. Grafton and waning them a 
pleasant joamery, he withdrew. 

"Uncle Bill" Weldon, was also present: 
shop was near at hand and he was otten 
at the depot for a few minutes at train 
time. "It s as good as a show," he otten 
remarked. A fellow can’t pound all the 
time and I don’t believe I lose anything by 
takinn a breathing spell once in a while.” 

Watching his opportunity he t» 

Marv unheard by others: •‘Don’t yon 
ever forzec the old folks. Mary: just re- 
cember that yon won’t never have any 
friends to equal them, if you live to be as 
old as Methuselah. ’ 

The train came thundering along and 
amid hearty gcxxi-bves and hurried hand 
shakes they were oS 

.Arrived in Topeka they went at once to 
a quiet hotel which bad been recemmeuded 
to Mrs. Grafton. 

The "Institute” was at some distance 


from the center of the city; taking the 
street cars they soon came to the place. 
It was a large rambling edifice, with 
spacious grounds. With some trepidation 
Mrs. Grafton told the rather thin and pale 
girl who answered her summons, that she 
wished to speak to Dr. McFarland, and 
they were shown into the large reception 
room adjoining the hallway. The room 
was large and the ceiling lofty; it was 
tastefully furnished with old fashioned 
and somewhat worn furniture; the walls 
were hung with portraits and paintings; a 
large piano ocxmpied one comer. Upon it 
was a vase filled with rare dowers; some 
statuettes posed upon brackets, and from 
an elevated position a full sized bust of 
some ponderous worthy looked down upon 
them. They had just glanced about the 
room when the door softlv opened and an 
elderly gentleman in slippers advanced to 
meet them. Mrs. Grafton rose, saying, 
“Dr. McFarland, I suppose," to which he 
bowed assent. ‘T have a letter of introduc- 
tion,” said she, “from Mr Ellery, of 
Plainville. * 

‘•Ah,” said he, ‘‘pray be seated* 

As he was reading the letter, Mrs. Graf- 
ton took a rapid inventory of his features, 
but without being able to determine much 
regarding his character. He was of about 
the average height and size; his face was 
quite full, with puny cheeks, rather in- 
clining to red in color, denoting a lack of 
sumcient exercise, and as she thought, a 
possible high temper Before she 'nad 
folly made up her mind as to the kind of a 
rr^t-r the doctor might be, having finished 
the letter and now knowing the character 
of the case in hand, his manner underwent 
a slight change from the rather stately air 
with which he began the interview. 

“I do not know Mrs. Grafton,” said he, 
“That we have any vacancy in the line 
which it seems you are thinking of. “We 
have a great many applications of this 
kind and really I must say. that so far. 
they have given us more trouble thau any 


20 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


that we have to deal with. No doubt your 
daughter would expect all the advantages 
we could give her. and as a necessary re- 
sult of this expectation, would not be very 
profitable as a helper." 

“My daughter would certainly strive to 
please, and is so anxious to attend school 
that she would be willing to work pretty 
hard to secure a position which would en- 
able her to pursue her studies,” said Mrs. 
Grafton. 

“You are aware Mrs. Grafton that if 
your daughter should take the position of 
helper that she could not associate upon 
terms of equality with the young ladies of 
the house. That she could only receive 
instruction in the studies taken by the day 
scholars who do not room in the house and 
that her position would be far from pleas- 
ant ” 

“And what are those studies,” said Mrs. 
Grafton. 

“They are confined to the higher Eng- 
lish studies and the languages,” said the 
doctor. “Perhaps I should have sooner 
stated that the whole direction of these 
household matters is in the hands of Mrs. 
McFarland. Should you think it worth 
while after what I have told you, I will 
summon her.” 

“1 should like to see Mrs. McFarland,” 
said Mrs. Grafton. 

The doctor withdrew and they were left 
to their reflections and a survey of the 
room in which they sat. Just as Mary was 
trying to make up her mind which one of 
the ancient Greek philosophers was repre- 
sented by the big bust, which scowled 
upon them from its position high up in one 
corner, the door again opened. 


CHAPTER VI. — FACING A FROWNING WORLD. 

M MRS. McFarland was apparent- 
ly about fifty years of age, spare, 
slight and nervous. As she ad- 
vanced to meet Mrs. Grafton and her 
daughter, for she it was who came in, that 
lady’s attention was strangely attracted by 


the short bobbing curls with which each 
side of her face was furnished. They 
shook and danced in such a way as to give 
a stranger a very good idea of the ener- 
getic, nervous and quite business like lady 
who wore them. 

Mr. McFarland tells me,” said she, 
“that your daughter wishes to assist us in 
the work of the house as a means of defray- 
ing her expenses.” 

“That is what we came for," said Mrs. 
Grafton. “You are Mrs. McFarland, I sup- 
pose?” 

“Yes, 5 ^ou will excuse me, I suppose I 
should have introduced myself; what kind 
of work has she been accustomed to do and 
would she be willing to apply herself do you 
think?” 

“She has been accustomed to the usual 
housework done upon a farm and I think 
would be found faithful,” said the mother. 

Mary sat silently looking first at one of 
the ladies and then at the other and felt 
her heart sinking within her. How near 
and dear her mother seemed to her now 
that she seemed likely, temporarily, to lose 
her. The very tones of her voice, as she 
talked with Mrs. McFarland seemed 
changed. She wondered that she had not 
before noted how soft and gentle was her 
manner and expression. She shrank as 
Mrs. McFarland glanced keenly at her 
while she talked; could she endure the life 
at the school, which did not now seem so 
attractive as she had pictured it? She 
could not tell; but of this she felt assured, 
it must now be attempted. 

Meantime the ladies had progressed so 
far in the negotiations that at Mrs. Graf- 
ton’s request they went out of the room to 
inspect the house and that she might see 
for herself the room she would occupy and 
the persons she might expect to associate 
with. 

Mary was left alone, and again the feel- 
ings of doubt and discouragement came 
over her. This was what it was to leave 
home and go among strangers. How 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


21 


silent it was and how close the air in the 
room. “Ah, but this will never do,” she 
thought and taking a volume from the 
table she began turning the leaves and as 
she became somewhat interested in its con- 
tents, courage returned and she again 
mentally resolved to bravely bear her part 
in what she now felt must be the struggle 
of life just opening before her. 

Mrs. Grafton was gone some time. 
When she returned the preliminaries had 
been arranged and it was agreed that 
Mary should begin in the morning her 
round of duties. 

They returned at once to the hotel, 
where Mrs. Grafton explained to her 
daughter fully the situation at the institute 
and what her duties would be. Mrs. Mc- 
Farland had insisted that Mary should be 
required to do what she termed “kitchen 
work.” She held out a faint hope that 
after Mary had proved herself both willing 
and trusty, that possibly she might be 
able to -give her a more agreeable position, 
but she was very politic and made few 
promises. Mary was to be allowed the 
evenings for study, but the day would be 
entirely taken up by work, with the excep- 
tion of the hours occupied by recitations. 

The prospect was not very encouraging, 
but it was all there was, and was the best 
that could be done. They had not ex- 
pected much and yet they had hoped for 
more. 

The next morning Mrs. Grafton accom- 
panied her daughter to the Institute, gave 
her a little money charging her to come 
home immediately if she desired at any 
time to leave and with many kisses and 
parting injunctions left her for the first 
time among strangers. 

The journey home was monotonous and 
tiresome: the child whom she had borne, 
watched over and tenderly cared for had 
been left behind and her separate life be- 
gun. Somehow Mrs. Grafton could not 
help feeling as though she were returning 
from a funeral. 


Arriving at Plainville she found Mr. 
Grafton and Charlie awaiting her. Al- 
though she had been absent only for a day 
or two it had been a lonesome dreary time 
for them, and Charlie especially was over- 
joyed at her return. 

Mr. Grafton had a few purchases to 
make and they went at once to the store of 
Mr. Brown, who as usual was ready to 
engage in conversation, which he had 
found led to trade and subsequent profit. 

“And so you left Mary at Topeka,” 
said he. 

“Yes,” said she, “I did.” 

“Wasn’t you sorry to leave her among 
strangers?” 

“Why yes, I was; indeed I was obliged 
to talk as cheerfully as possible, or we 
should both have broken down; Mary 
never left me before; but we both thought 
it for the best that she should remain.” 

“Yes, I spose its all right but I should 
think you would want to keep her at home; 
and then it must be expensive to keep her 
there aint it?” 

“We have made arrangements which 
will reduce the expense,” said Mrs. Graf- 
ton, “but the cost of the trip, incidentals, 
clothing and the like are still, for us, quite 
heavy.” 

Mrs. Grafton felt almost guilty in the 
fact that she was concealing the fact that' 
Mary was only a “kitchen girl” at the In- 
stitute, and was hardly considered a scholar, 
and yet, mother like, she could not bear to 
relate the particulars; it was nobody’s 
business, she thought. 

“Quite a number of young folks is talk- 
ing of going away to school now,” said 
Mr. Baker, “and they say John Busteed is 
going right off.” 

“John Busteed!” said Mrs. Grafton with 
some astonishment, “what has induced 
him to think of such a thing.” 

“Why it is kinder curious; considerin’ 
that he never would go to school here, but 
they have a new kind of college now-a- 
days to teach business, they say, and it’s 


22 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


to one of them he is talking of going. 
Topeka is where he is going I believe, 
there is a business college there aint 
there?” 

“Why I believe so,” said Mrs. Grafton. 

Why this announcement should affect 
, Mrs. Grafton she could not tell. She told 
herself that this was no concern of hers; 
that what John did or did not do, could not 
be a matter of interest to her, and yet she 
could not bear to think of his being in the 
same city with Mary, Slight as was the 
occasion she felt troubled at the thought. 
She knew as did everyone in the vicinity, 
of his evil ways and somehow could not 
shake off the thought that his going to 
Topeka was in some way connected with 
his knowledge of Mary’s present resi- 
dence. 

Life with the Graftons passed soberly 
along. Letters from Mary were eagerly 
looked for and read. She was making 
progress, she wrote, and although her sit- 
uation was not altogether what she would 
have chosen, still she made no complaint, 
spoke eagerly of the pleasure she hoped 
for, when permitted to return, and desired 
them to dismiss all anxious fears regarding 
herself. 

John Busteed had gone to Topeka. He 
was said to be attending the commercial 
college there, but vain rumors from time 
to time reached Plainville of riotous doings 
and sundry escapades at Kansas City and 
elsewhere, which were received much as a 
matter of course. His father was not a 
man to talk much of his affairs, but ex- 
pressions from him at different times were 
reported, from which it was gathered that 
the son was causing his father to expend 
what were considered large sums in his 
maintainance. 

One day Mrs, Jones, a neighbor of the 
Graftons, “ran in” for a liitle visit; to 
talk, as she said, “just a minute.” 

“I thought I ought to tell you,” she 
said, “what they are saying about Mary. 
John Busteed has writ home that she aint 


going to that fine school at all, that she is 
just a working out; says she is just a hired 
girl there. Says he is acquainted with 
some of the girls that goes there, and they 
are high-flyers too, I guess, if all I hear is 
true. You see my boy Dick got it from 
Ben Thompson, up to town, and John 
writes to him telling him what fine times 
he’s a having. He says he goes to the 
play about every night and he can go with 
the best of ’em. I don’t believe it of 
course, but some of the things they hint 
about is just awful. He says that the girls 
gets permission to go to visit friends in the 
city, after school hours, and then don’t go, 
you know, but go off for buggy rides and 
to the theatre and dear knows what all. I 
thought I ought to tell you, you was always 
so careful about Mary and so particular. 
And John says that money and fine clothes 
is all any of ’em cares for and that enough 
of them will carry any fellow through, if 
he is careful to keep straight in the right 
places. You see John’s father give him 
letters when he went awa)^ to some of the 
big bugs he knows up there, and that gives 
him a chance to get to their houses and he 
says he knows when to put on the right 
kind of a face. Says he ■ goes to church, 
some of the time, nice as a pin, and he 
writ something about Mary, too. I thought 
I ought to tell you,” 

CHAPTER VII. — life’s TRIALS. 

M rs, Jones was a clever, good- 
hearted soul and really intended 
to do the Graftons a favor by re- 
peating the stories in circulation, which 
she had heard; still Mrs. Grafton could 
not listen to the vulgar and scandalous 
tales without a feeling of personal injury 
arising within her breast. Mary’s name, 
her daughter’s name, had been lightly used 
and although the closest inquiry failed to 
draw out any direct charge against her 
fair name or standing at school, yet the 
poisonous breath of suspicion had been 
suffered to fall upon her, and this was 


T'HE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


23 


enough to awaken in the mind of the 
mother an unrest to which she had hereto- 
fore been a stranger. Mary had been 
reared and most carefully nurtured at 
home, her every thought and wish as open 
as the day; her mother had been her con- 
stant companion and between the two had 
grown up that perfect confidence which 
the wise mother has found to be a source 
of control unequalled. Mrs. Grafton had 
felt that her daughter’s every thought was 
known to her and in this knowledge she 
had trusted. Mary was safe; she knew it 
must be so, and yet — and yet. Ah! the 
anguish of doubt. What should she do? 

Whoever has in youth been religiously 
instructed, turns for help in moments of 
distress to that great Hope within the vail, 
Years may pass and creeds decay. Phil- 
osophy may teach and have her claims 
allowed. Doubt and deceit may have done 
their work; and yet in the supreme mo- 
ments of life, the spirit of man rises by a 
demand of its own nature, instinctively to 
its source. 

Thus was it with Mrs. Grafton; after her 
kind-hearted but garrulous neighbor had 
taken her departure, she walked from 
room to room and back again in the little 
cottage, and all the thought that formed 
itself in her mind was: “God help us, God 
help us.” 

Presently she became calmer and realiz- 
ing that active exertion was, under the 
circumstances, best for her, she hurriedly 
began the preparations for the evening 
meal. 

Mr. Grafton was engaged in moving a 
fence from one location to another upon 
the farm, and as the weather was mild 
little Charlie was with him, riding upon 
the wagon from one point to another. Mr. 
Grafton liked to have the little fellow with 
him; and talked to him as though he was 
equally interested with himself in the 
progress of the work in hand. And indeed 
he was, at least Charlie felt himself to be 
of great importance. Didn’t he hold the 


horses while his father was loading up, 
and did he not drive one load almost all 
the way alone? 

But now the work of the day was done 
and Mrs. Grafton saw them drive into the 
yard, near the stable. Mr. Gralton re- 
mained to care for the team, but Charlie 
came running in, eager to tell his mother 
of his efficiency in helping his father with 
the work. 

‘O mother, we got it all over,” said he. 

Mrs. Grafton replied cheerfully, but 
very soberly, to the little fellow. Child- 
like he instantly divined that something 
was wrong. 

“Mamma,” said he looking sharpl}^ at 
her, “you have been crying.” 

“No,” said she, rather doubtfully, “I 
don’t think I have cried any.” 

“I guess you have,” said the child, “for 
your eyes are just as shiny as they can be.” 

Mrs. Grafton caught the little fellow in 
her arms and pressed him to her heart. 
Giving him a kiss she said: “Now go and 
tell papa sapper is most ready.” 

Seated at the table Mrs. Grafton told her 
husband what Mrs. Jones had said. His 
countenance fell and the dark lines which 
at times disfigured his face were plainly 
apparent. 

“Is everything turning against us?” said 
he. 

Mrs. Grafton had had time for reflection 
and was now disposed to look more com- 
posedly upon the matter than at first. 

“Why, no indeed, ‘George,” said she “we 
haven’t heard a viord from Mary, you 
know, and so we can say that we know 
nothing that should trouble us.” 

“That’s just it,” said he, “we don’t know 
anything about what may be going on at 
Topeka and that’s what we ought to know. 
You ought to go at once and see Mary and 
I haven’t a dollar to send you with.” 

“I know it, George, but I have been 
thinking the matter over and my confi- 
dence in Mary is not yet weakened. She 
will not deceive us; and if we write she 


24 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


will answer and answer truthfully. I 
should like to go, but that with us is not to 
be thought of, still I feel confident it is all 
for the best. Don’t you know how Mary 
promised you when she went away to do 
nothing which she knew we would not ap- 
prove? Surely you have not lost faith in her 
so soon.” 

“No,” said he, “I haven’t, but in the 
life of a young girl these things are so 
terribly important that one can’t help 
feeling anxious. Well, we must write at 
once and tell her all that is being said and 
of our anxiety and ask her to tell us all 
about affairs at the Institute. It is all 
we can do. Poverty holds us as in a vise.” 

Supper ended, Mr. Grafton went out at 
once to do the usual evening work upon 
the farm. Hurrying through this he came 
at once into the house and sat down to 
write. A long letter was soon finished and 
saddling a horse he went at once to Plain- 
ville that the letter might go upon the 
early morning train. The town was but a 
few miles away and yet it was very late 
when he returned. 

Three weary days of waiting passed, and 
then a letter came from Mary. Mr. Graf- 
ton returned late in the evening, his wife 
met him at the door. “Did you get it?” 
she asked. 

“Yes,” he said, “it’s all right, I read it 
on the way home.” 

Mrs. Grafton took the letter and at once 
sat down to read; an extract from the let- 
ter was as follows; 

“How sorry I am for you; for from your 
letter I see that you have suffered. How 
could you fear that I would not tell you 
all? I have now been here nearly three 
months and during all that time, with the 
exception of Sundays, when I have gone to 
church, I have been absent from the 
house but twice and then in company with 
Mrs. McFarland, who seems to have taken 
quite a fancy to me. Some of the young 
ladies here are disposed to be quite wild, 
but they certainly are not disposed to re- 


gard me as belonging to their set, indeed 
they scarcely speak to me when we meet, 
and we have nothing in common. John 
Busteed I have never seen. He could not 
come here and if he meets any inmates of 
this school it is in the city and not here,” 

The letter was long and contained many 
expressions of love, many inquiries regard- 
ing home affairs, told of her progress in 
her studies and ended with the injunction 
not to worry regarding herself. Enclosed 
in the same envelope was a note from Mrs. 
McFarland to Mrs. Grafton congratulating 
her upon the possession of so good' a 
daughter and assuring her that she need 
give herself no uneasiness regarding Mary’s 
conduct. 

The hearts of the little family were 
lightened, the load of anxiety removed and 
again they could look forward with hope 
and confidence to a future which somehow 
and in some way must prove brighter than 
their present life. 

As the holidays approached, the absence 
of the light of their home was deeply felt 
at the Grafton cottage. At the Institute 
there was a short vacation of two weeks 
and Mary could be spared, but although 
the expense of a visit was comparatively 
small, it was more than the impoverished 
resources of the family would allow. She 
must remain. Mrs. McFarland was kind 
but very exacting. She would pay Mary a 
few dollars for work during the intermix 
sion. Small as was the amount it 
needed, and wiping away the tears whicn 
would come, Mary resolutely applied herself 
to her tasks. 

The Winter passed slowly away. Upon 
a prairie farm it is impossible for a farmer 
to profitably employ himself, except in 
feeding or fattening animals, and with most 
it is simply a period of expense and weary 
waiting for the opening of a new season. 
Without the capital necessary to engage in 
stock raising, the business of cropping is 
almost of a certainty a failure. Mr. Graf- 
ton had only barely escaped financial ruin 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


the previous season, and now that another 
year had dawned and another Spring 
begun, he saw only a repetition of the past 
in store for the future. His affairs were 
not in quite so good trim as they had 
been the previous year. Some losses had 
occurred, slight in themselves, yet to him 
they proved quite serious. Almost without 
money, a few dollars must be sent to the 
dear girl so bravely and patiently strug- 
gling against the social slights and ostra- 
cism of her position, in the hope of a 
better and brighter day. 

As the Spring advanced, poor old Jim, 
the faithful horse who, like his master, had 
struggled on, honestly endeavoring to 
meet the demands upon his time and 
strength, but unlike him, without hope in 
the future, suddenly fell sick and it was 
plain that his days of service were over. 
Mr. Grafton did what he could, summoned 
a kind-hearted neighbor, who was sup- 
posed to be wise in horse flesh, to his assist- 
ance, but the wise man shook his head. 
“It’s no use,” he said, “you can’t do any- 
thing for him; it’s a bad case of lung fever 
and in his enfeebled condition and consid- 
ering his age, he’ll die.” 

But Grafton would not have it so. “He 
has done his best for me,” he said. “He 
never failed me and at least he shall not 
lack for care.” 

The neighbor took his departure, but 
Mr. Grafton went at once to work. Mrs. 
Grafton put the wash boiler upon the 
kitchen stove, water was heated and to- 
gether they watched and worked through 
the livelong night. As the light began to 
show in the east the faithful beast 
stretched himself upon the stable floor 
and with a parting struggle, was gone. 

“He is dead,” said Mr, Grafton, and as 
he spoke, the tears which he had endeav- 
ored to hold in check refused longer to be 
controlled. Mrs. Grafton wept aloud. 
“To think,” said she, “that the poor faith- 
ful fellow never can have any remunera- 
tion for all his toil for us is too bad — too 


25 

bad. Life is so hard — so ruthless and so 
cruel. ’‘ 

Spring found the Graftons compelled to 
practice the closest and most pinching 
economy to provide even for the daily re- 
turning wants of the body. To add to the 
gravity of their situation the payment of 
the interest on the mortgage upon the 
farm, which had been deferred, was now 
demanded. The agent of the loan com- 
pany at the county seat, wrote that the 
company had instructed him to make a 
collection at once of all amounts due and 
that no further time would be given. 

In consultation with his wife Mr. Graf- 
ton had almost determined to give up the 
effort to retain the farm. He felt that 
without a great change in his affairs took 
place he must shortly be compelled to do so 
and the thought occurred to him that he 
might be able to make an arrangement 
with some one who would be willing to 
take the farm subject to the mortgage. 

Mrs. Grafton was loath to give it up and 
yet she could offer no plan which seemed 
likely to succeed in holding it. “If we 
give it up where shall we go and what 
shall we do?” said she. 


CHAPTER VIII. — BRANCHTON. 

T hat something must be done was 
plain. Money must be had and 
payments made, and it was finally 
decided, after much careful thought, that 
the better course would be for Mr. Grafton 
to go to Branchton, the county seat, which 
was distant some thirty miles, and ascer- 
tain what could be done; it being plain that 
either the farm must be given up or more 
money raised upon it. 

The farm upon which the Graftons lived 
consisted of a quarter section, or one hun- 
dred and sixty acres of good land. The 
house was a small and inexpensive cottage, 
the stables and other out-buildings scarcely 
worthy the name, being cheap structures 
intended at the time of construction as 
only temporary make-shifts, which might 


LOOKING FORWARD. 


26 THE GRAFTONS QR 

answer until better could be erected. As 
is usual under such circumstances, how- 
ever, it had been found impossible to re- 
place them, and they had been patched 
and mended from year to year with a new 
board here and there, slight additions 
made and changes effected, with but little 
substantial improvement. The farm was 
an average Kansas homestead and was 
valued at some three or four thousand 
dollars. Upon this there was a mortgage 
of one thousand. This having been placed 
some years before the opening of our 
story, bore interest at the rate of ten per 
cent per annum, and called for an annual 
tribute of one hundred dollars. Mr. Graf- 
ton had been told that he could secure a 
larger loan upon the farm, by agents of 
the different loan companies, but he well 
knew that if he found it impossible to pay 
the one he now carried, that to add to the 
burden made it certain that the farm must 
be given up. But now necessity forced 
him to immediate action. Either the farm 
must be sold or a new and larger loan 
secured. It was impossible otherwise to 
pay the interest upon the mortgage now 
long over due. 

Bright and early one morning Mr. Graf- 
ton harnessed his horses to the farm wagon 
and placing therein feed for his team, a 
couple of loaves of bread and some boiled 
ham for himself with blankets for his bed, 
drove slowly down the lane and out upon 
the highway towards Branchton. As he 
turned for a last look at the place he 
called home, he saw his wife and little boy 
watching him from where they stood, just 
outside and near the corner of the house. 
He waved a hasty adieu and the next in- 
stant an intervening tree shut off the view 
and he was alone. As he drove slowly 
along his reflections were strangely mixed. 
Must he lose the farm? And what then? 
He was not likely to have enough left to 
enable him to engage in business of any 
kind and although he felt himself competent 
to act as clerk or assistant, still he felt that 


almost without exception employers desired 
)'Oung men and disliked to employ middle- 
aged or old men as assistants. Just what 
could be done he could not say; the future 
was not encouraging, and yet when he 
contrasted his position with that of others 
he felt cause for thankfulness. How 
happy was his home, was ever man more 
blessed than he? Something must happen 
to his advantage he felt sure. 

It is only the made up stories that end 
with everybody happy and contented. The 
comedy of errors which we call life, ends 
with the tragedy of death; disguise it as 
we may, the grave is the goal which 
all are certain to reach, and the 
author who would sketch the happenings 
of actual residents upon this earth, without 
other motive than to set down the realities 
of existence, must content himself with a 
recital of many things which he could wish 
were not true. 

Thirty miles is a fair day’s travel for a 
farmer’s heavy team and it was late in the 
afternoon as Mr. Grafton rode into Branch- 
ton. As he drove up to a stable, a man came 
out and accosted him with, “Want tostop?” 

“Yes, I guess so,” said Mr. Grafton. 
“What do you charge for a pair of horses 
to hay?" 

“Fifty cents a day, you care for your own 
team.” 

“And a chance to sleep in the hay?” said 
the farmer. 

“Oh yes, they mostly do,” said the man. 
“If you are going to stop, drive into the 
wagon yard. I’ll open the gate,” and suit- 
ing the action to the word he swung open 
the heavy gate and Mr Grafton drove into 
the enclosure where a number of farm 
wagons had already preceded him. Un- 
harnessing his team he led them to the 
trough in the yard, gave his horses what 
water they wanted and placed them in the 
stalls which the hostler pointed out. When 
he had fed and cared for the team, washed 
at the pump in the stable yard and eaten 
of some of the bread and meat in the 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 27 


wagon the day was spent and evening ap- 
proached. The streets were brilliantly 
lighted and invited him forth. Giving a 
parting look at nis horses, he saw that each 
had eaten his corn and was busily engaged 
in munching hay. “There, old fellows,’’ 
said he, “I guess you are all right and I’ll 
take a turn through the town.” 

Sauntering carelessly down the street, 
jostled by people of all classes and con- 
ditions, he could not but wonder at the 
eager air pervading the whole. Each 
seemed intent on something important; 
even the little knot of men gathered about 
the story teller at the corner were anxious 
and expectant, awaiting the denoue7nent sup- 
posed to lie hidden at the end. The minds 
of all appeared occupied with the happen- 
ings or business of the moment; reflection 
there was none. All were influenced and 
moved upon by the doings of others, and 
although to Grafton this had been a famil- 
iar sight in years gone by, yet as he had 
now been for a number of years compara- 
tively secluded, living as he did upon a 
farm, the difference in manner of thought 
and life between the farmer and the towns- 
man was the more forcibly impressed upon 
him. The saying of the wise man came 
again with added force: “Iron sharpeneth 
iron, so a wise man sharpeneth the coun- 
tenance of his friend.” Yes, that was 
true, but was it best for the man? Was 
man a mere human fox whose sole aim in 
life was compassed by the effort to obtain 
advantage which other foxes should repel? 

As he wandered down the street his ears 
were saluted by the sound of a drum in 
the distance; as he approached he found 
that a detachment of the despised Salva- 
tion Army were conducting a service upon 
the street. A crowd surrounded them 
composed of all kinds of people. The 
leader was exhorting all to flee from what 
she described as the wrath to come. With 
earnest and somewhat incoherent words 
she appealed to her hearers. All listened 
respectfully. She told of nothing new; 


no charm of manner invested her words 
with power; evidently she was uneducated 
and in personal presence inferior, and yet 
hundreds hung upon her speech. Why 
was it? Grafton was not what is termed a 
religious man, he did not believe the iron- 
bound creed which she appeared to teach 
and yet he felt the power of her earnest 
utterances. What was it that attracted 
him? Ah, thought he, these people own 
the bond of human brotherhood; no desire 
for gain influences their action; despised 
and rejected of men they yet seek to serve. 

Deep down in the nature of every man 
there exists a chord of sympathy, which 
responds to the slightest manifestation of 
genuine interest in his welfare. All own 
its power. It exists; the heart of man 
does beat in sympathy with that of his 
fellow and upon this hangs the hope of hu- 
manity. And this bond of brotherhood, 
of sympathy, depends upon no external 
aid. It is not the creature of custom or of 
man made, or priestly law; it is a natural 
force inherent in the nature of man and 
beast. Cattle herding upon the open 
plain, join in defense; even hogs do the 
same when summoned by the cries of a 
fellow. A crowd of men will not see a 
weakling abused at the hands of a stronger, 
and wrong, fully exposed is half cured. 

By means of the printed page, the public 
press and that inter-communication, which 
in our day is constantly increasing, men 
are brought more and more into the rela- 
tions of brotherhood, their wants and 
wishes made known and that community of 
feeling produced' which is slowly revolu- 
tionizing the world and which will continue 
to operate with added and increasing force 
until the kingdoms of this world shall be- 
come the kingdoms of righteousness, justice 
and peace. 

The Salvationists took up their line of 
march, singing as they went, a boisterous 
song, but one remove from the ridiculous. 
Grafton turned away and sought the 
stable; looking in upon his faithful friends 


28 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


and finding them still contentedly eating 
their hay, he got his blankets from the 
wagpn and ascended to the hay loft; step- 
ping over first one and then another, who 
had already composed themselves for the 
night, he wrapped himself in the blankets 
as best he could and was soon lost in sleep, 
'Early the next morning he was astir and 
attending to the wants of his team, A 
hasty toilet at the pump, more bread and 
meat from the wagon and he was ready for 
the business of the day. As soon as the 
office of the loan agent was opened for 
business, he was there. Having a slight 
acquaintance with Mr, James, the agent, 
that gentleman accosted him with, “Hello, 
Grafton, got my note, did you?” 

“Yes, I received the notice and have come 
for the purpose of making some arrange- 
ment.” 

“Ready to pay the interest?” 

“No,” said he, “I am unable to pay it 
to-day.” 

“Well, what are you going to do about 
it? You know my orders were peremptory.” 

“I suppose,” said Mr. Grafton, “that if 
nothing else could be done, that a new and 
larger loan might be made?” 

‘ 'Yes, and unless you have the money I ex- 
pect that will be the onl}’ way you can do.” 

“I would sell the farm if I could get any- 
thing near what it was worth,” said Mr, 
Grafton rather ruefully. 

“Well, now that’s the thing you just can’t 
do,” said Mr. James very positively. 

“No sale for land, eh?” 

“O, Lord no, ain’t been a regular bona fide 
sale on a farm I don’t know the day when.” 

“Why I occasionally see notices of trans- 
fers in the county papers,” said the farmer. 

“Oh, well, you know how that is, I 
s’pose. They are just turned over, same 
as if you had already got as heavy a mort- 
gage as could be placed on your farm and 
couldn’t pay the interest, then sometimes 
the company, to save expense of fore- 
closing, gives the holder a trifle to make 
^ clear title, but you are in pretty fair shape 


to what a great many are. I can get you 
sixteen and maybe eighteen hundred on 
your place, then you can pay off the old 
mortgage and have something left,” 

“My farm is worth near four thousand 
dollars.” 

“Yes, if you could get it.” 

“What’s the reason I can’t get some- 
where near what it’s worth?” 

“When so many are being transferred at 
about the face of the mortgage what 
would be the need of a buyer paying, more? 
You see money is so blamed scarce that 
men can’t get it to meet obligations. That 
brings everything right down to bed rock.” 

“Then there is no way of obtaining 
money except by borrowing at high rates 
of interest? Grain doesn’t really bring as 
much as it costs to raise it.” 

“That’s about the only show for money 
and grain brings no more because the de- 
mand is light; there’s too much of it raised,” 

CHAPTER IX. — THE LAWYER. 

^ ^ y O W can there be too much wheat 

I I raised, when the price of flour 
X X remains so high and so many in 
all the large cities lack bread?” said 
Grafton. 

“Oh well. I’m not going to get into a 
discussion with you on political economy. 
I know well enough that morally speaking, 
something is out of joint but I’m no re- 
former. My business is to make a living 
and something over, and whatever passes 
current in a business way is good enough 
for me; I can’t change the general run of 
things, if I was to die for it. So I’ve 
pretty much concluded to let’m slide, and 
if business in general is run on a wrong 
basis, why I’m not to blame for it.” 

“Who is to blame?” 

“O everybody I reckon; and as what is 
everybody’s business is nobody’s, nobody 
feels specially concerned.” 

“Now, Mr. James,” said the farmer, 
“you are a practical man, a shrewd man, 
and a lawyer, and have often, no doubt. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 2g 


considered the fact that those who produce 
the wealth of the world get but a small 
share of it; that in fact as things go, the 
man who honestly spends his life in pro- 
ducing the real wealth of the world, stands 
no chance of retaining in his own hands 
more than a very small share of what is 
rightfully his.’ Schemes and plans of one 
sort and another, mostly under the protec- 
tion of law, take from him here a slice and 
there a portion, until he is only allowed 
to retain, after all exchanges are made, 
barely enough to live upon and, as you 
know, while the original producer of all 
values, the laborer,is by means of invention 
and improvement, annually producing 
more and more of the good things of life 
the amount taken from each producer is 
increasing in a far greater ratio. Now 
what I want to ask you is not whether you 
think all this morally right — for you agree 
' that it cannot be — but whether you think 
there is absolutely no remedy?" 

“That’s a mighty big question?" 

“Yes I know it, but I want to know what 
you think.” 

“Well if the present manner of doing 
the business of the world is wrong, there 
ought to be a remedy, hadn’t there?" 

“Yes” 

“Well I am an optimist, I believe in the 
final triumph of right.” 

“Then you do not believe that there can 
be a wrong without a remedy?” 

“See here Grafton, it occurs to me that 
you are getting me into an argument after 
all.” 

“Oh well, it’s early and you have no 
other customer just now and as you are a 
man of affairs and a keen business man, I 
would just like to know what you think on 
this question,” said Mr. Grafton. 

“Question? why you are pulling the 
whole cook shop on me; capital and labor, 
God and mammon.” 

“No, I simply ask you whether in your 
judgment there is any remedy for a con- 
dition of affairs which you acknowledge 


does not square with equal and exact jus- 
tice to man.” 

“Well Grafton, I can tell you this, that 
there is not the slightest chance in God’s 
world for any improvement until what we 
call the upper classes get woke up and 
move in this matter. Mankind is moved 
from above. Mental force and improve- 
ment operates from above downward. It 
don’t go the other way. I expect you look 
on the laborer and producer as practically 
enslaved, and in a certain sQnse he is, for 
whoever is in a position where the profits 
of his labor are taken from him, is the 
slave of the parties who get the benefit of 
ni.s labors. Really that is the essence of 
slavery to have the profits of your labor 
taken from you without your being able to 
help yourself. Suppose we admit that the 
producer of all values, the laborer, is a 
slave; now I just want to tell you that 
since the beginning of the world slaves 
never have freed themselves and they 
never will. There is only one instance 
where they are said to have done it, and 
the evidence on that is all ex pa^'te; it’s 
just their account of it. The Hebrews got 
away from Pharoah and the Egyptians, 
borrowed all their jewelry, stole right and 
left and decamped — run away. I don’t 
know much about that case; they say God 
helped them, sent them dry shod through 
the Red Sea and drowned the Egyptians 
who pursued. I don’t know much about 
that, but if God actually performed mira- 
cles and set aside the laws of nature for 
their benefit, that’s^ all right, they had to 
win, but it is safe to say that no other set 
of toilers will free themselves until more 
miracles are performed. I’m not looking 
for anything of that sort and I don’t be- 
lieve you are. You’ve read history You 
know how that goes. There’s no instance 
to the contrary. Slaves, toilers, laborers, 
have never freed themselves where it was 
to the interests of the masters to retain 
their hold. The French revolution is the 
only instance where the lower classes ever 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


30 


got the upper hand, and that was only an 
insurrection. It was soon put down and 
they gladly welcomed an emperor who 
used the whole French nation as a play- 
thing. Now Grafton, I expect you’ve an 
idea that the working people of this coun- 
try, because they have a majority in num- 
bers and the right to vote, are going to 
free themselves from what you call the ex- 
actions of capital. Well now, they’ll never 
do it, and yet I don’t say that they 
oughtn’t to.” 

“You haven’t answered my question 
yet,” said Grafton, “you admit the wrong; 
is there a remedy?” 

“Why, I told you that I thought that 
finally there would be.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“Why of course I can only give you my 
opinion; I am sure though, that the laborer 
can never lift himself; that some power ex- 
terior to himself must do it, if it is ever 
done.” 

“Is there any power that will do it?” 

“Yes, I think there is. Public opinion, 
the general average judgment of society, 
is such a power, it really governs us and if 
I mistake not this power is being exerted 
in the direction of a change, but it pro- 
ceeds entirely from what are sometimes 
called the upper classes, the thinkers, the 
educators. What the laborer himself 
thinks exerts no appreciable influence 
upon the mass of society. As long as the 
preachers tell people that the powers that 
be are ordained of God; that they must not 
resist evil and that they must bear all 
things, hoping for a reward in another 
world, there’ll be no change in present 
methods. The churches form the great 
bulwark of the present system and for the 
most part they pay a good deal of attention 
to the heaviest paying pews. But these 
questions, although as old as man, are 
comparatively new to the mass of thinkers 
in this country, still I think I can see a 
change taking place.” 

“Now I have answered your questions. 


what are you going to do about the mort- 
gage?” 

“It seems that there is no other course 
open to me, except to make a new one,” 
said the farmer. 

“No, that’s all. It will take a few days 
to get the business fixed up and you just 
sign an application for a loah now and you 
and your wife come up in about a week 
and make out the mortgage and I will have 
everything all straight. I will try and get 
3'ou eighteen hundred on it. I know the 
place well and can get the two appraisers 
necessary right here in town. It is possi- 
ble that I can’t get but sixteen on it, but 
you sign an application for eighteen and 
I’ll to the best I can for you.” 

“I need some money to-day,” said the 
farmer rather regretfully, “and did not 
know but what I might borrow it.” 

“How much do you want?” 

“I ought to have about fifty dollars. I 
brought up my wagon and need to take 
some things back.” 

“Well,” said the lawyer, “3’ou just sign 
this application and I can get it for you. 
We will make out the note for the fifty 
dollars, on thirty days, and I expect the 
discount will be about two dollars.” 

“Why James, that will be at the rate of 
four per cent per month, and I onl}^ want 
it for a week, you know,” said Grafton. 

“Yes I know, but that’s about the only 
way you’ll get the money; that public 
opinion we were talking about, hasn’t had 
a great deal of effect on the 'loaning of 
mone}' yet.” 

Seeing that nothing else could be done, 
Mr. Grafton signed the application, ob- 
tained the money and began making his 
little purchases preparatory to leaving for 
home. 

As the evening shadows began to appear, 
Mrs. Grafton and Charlie began to look 
for the return of the absent one. 

“I know he will come soon, Charlie, he 
told us he wouldn’t be gone but one night,” 
said Mrs. Grafton. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


31 


Charlie was constantly running out to 
the “big road ’ to look, and no sooner did 
he return from one of these expeditions 
than he was seized with a desire to go 
again. “Maybe I could see him now, if I 
was there,” he said. 

Mrs. Grafton could see Charlie from the 
house as he stood at the roadside looking 
anxiously into the distance, and at last as 
he seemed intent upon something, she 
called to him. 

“Do you see him, Charlie?” 

“Somebody is tumming,” said he. “I 
can’t see if it is him.” 

Mrs. Grafton could resist no longer and 
joined her child at the roadside. A wagon 
was approaching but the fading light of 
the Summer evening prevented them from 
determining whether it was the one they 
looked for or not. 

“Listen,” said the mother, “I believe 
that is our wagon, I can tell the rattle of 
its wheels.” 

Reassured by the sound, Mrs. Grafton 
took the hand of her child and together 
they approached the slowU'^ moving team. 
Mr. Grafton saw them and called out pleas- 
antly: “Couldn’t you wait any longer?” 

“Oh mamma, it’s him,” said Charlie, 
“let’s run,” and tugging at his mother’s 
hand he actually induced her to run the 
few steps which intervened between them 
and the returning husband and father 

The wagon was stopped, and although it 
was but a short distance to the house, both 
climbed up into the rough wagon beside 
the' driver. 

“Why, Emily,” said Mr. Grafton, as he 
put his arm around her, “I believe you 
are glad to see me.” 

“O,” said she, “you men know nothing 
of the lonesome weary times that come so 
often to a woman upon a farm. So many 
women spend their lives in waiting, hop- 
ing, trusting. Work is their only relief.” 

“Ah, you are downhearted again; you 
have health and the love of your family; 
just think of our Mary; perhaps she will 


be famous some day, who knows; there 
isn’t such another girl in the world — forus.” 

The horses had now drawn the wagon in 
front of the little stable and come to a 
halt. Charlie clambered out and called to 
his father: 

“Papa, we’ve got home.” 

But the occupants of the wagon, for 
the moment, showed no disposition to alight. 

It is a little remarkable that the tender 
passion which forms the staple of most 
works of fiction, appears to the average 
reader as respectable and interesting only 
when it concerns the loves of men and 
maids. The supposition that husbands 
and wives may and do love each other, is, 
of course, admissible in print, but strange 
as it may seem, when the lover’s tender 
wooings have resulted in matrimony, senti- 
ment appears to have received a most fatal 
wound in the house of its friends, and the 
writer who should so far forget himself 
and his readers as to devote space to the 
love of husband and wife, would most 
surely be considered as having violated 
all the properties at once. And yet who 
for a moment believes that the sincere 
affection of youth strengthened by confi- 
dence and trust' which has not been mis- 
placed, is inferior to the vaporings of decep- 
tive passion? The man and woman who have 
a common interestin a little grave upon the 
wind swept prairie, have in that unutter- 
able sorrow, a bond far stronger than all 
the whispered nothings ever uttered by 
man or listened to by maid. 


CHAPTER X. — QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 

ICKEY JONES was in town and 
brought me out a letter from 
Mary,” said Mrs. Grafton; ' “you 
shall see it when you go in. She says that 
Mrs. McFarland had sent her a few times 
to take her place as teacher of one of the 
lower classes among the 'day scholars,’ and 
that she had begun to feel as though she 
had made one step toward a somewhat bet- 
ter position, when some of the parents of 



32 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


the little gir’s complained to Dr. McFar- 
land that they did not send their children 
to the Institute to be taught by a ‘hired 
girl’ and that if a change was not made 
they should take their daughters from the 
school.” 

“Human nature has some awful mean 
streaks, hasn’tit,” said Mr. Grafton. “Now 
just think of our poor Mary struggling 
against the social slights which mean so 
much to a young girl; working hard in the 
kitchen, that she may have an opportunity 
to do something more to her taste in the 
future, and then when the door appears to 
be opened, only a trifle, to have those 
people so eager to close it again in her 
face. It couldn’t have been that they 
found any fault with her teaching, for she 
was fully prepared to teach a primary class 
long ago, and then she has one of the 
sweetest dispositions in the world and her 
desire to teach would have made her exert 
herself to please her little scholars. The 
only reason was that some of the pupils 
knew that Mary had been employed in the 
kitchen. But that was enough. Life is a 
fight, even for a girl. Animals all join in 
keeping the underlings down, and human 
nature differs but little from brute nature. 
And so Mary was relieved of the re- 
sponsibility of teaching I suppose?” 

“Yes, Mrs McFarland told Mary all 
about it and really seemed to feel badly 
for her, and she said too that those people 
were very foolish; for, for che little girls, 
Mary was a much better teacher than she 
would have been herself; that Mary had 
more patience with them and was better 
adapted to teaching.” 

“The Summer vacation is at hand and 
Mary must come home, for a visit, at any 
rate,” said Mr. Grafton. 

“Why, can we afford it, do you think?” 

“No, indeed, we can’t afford anything, 
but we must have her come whether we 
can or not. We have got to give up the 
farm sooner or later and I am in for cut- 
ting the thing short. In fact all we can do 


is to mortgage the place for all we can get, 
sell off stock and crops and — .” 

“And what then?” said Mrs. Grafton. 

“O, I don’t know what, but that much is 
clear, for we can’t continue to raise crops 
and sell them for less than it costs to raise 
them. They were only talking of paying 
ten cents a bushel for new oats, up at 
Branchton, and it will cost anybody 
eighteen to grow them, if all the items of 
expense are counted up.” 

“All that may be true,” said Mrs. Graf- 
ton regretfully. “but I can’t bear the 
thoughts of giving up this farm just as the 
trees which we have planted begin to make 
it look so home-like and so pretty.” 

“Well, mother, we can’t settle every- 
thing by sitting here in the wagon all 
night. Charlie has almost got the horses 
loose from the wagon; poor fellows they 
are tired; they are not used to the road 
and thirty miles have in them a good many 
steps.” 

A few days later found the Graftons in 
Branchton; Mrs. Grafton came along to 
sign the mortgage, and Charlie because he 
could not be left. Driving up to a board- 
ing house, or second rate hotel, Mrs. Graf- 
ton was left, but Charlie would go with his 
father to the stable, that he might see as 
much of the town as possible, 

Mr. James’ office was soon reached; that 
gentleman was in. ^ 

“Hello, Grafton,” said he, “come back: 
for another lecture?” 

“No, I came on other business, but I’m 
always ready to talk to a man from whom 
I can hope to gain any information.” 

“Well, according to the best of my rec- 
ollection you got me to talking pretty 
lively when you were here last; fact is I 
don’t believe that I ever spoke out quite so 
plain before. But then what I said is all 
true enough.” 

“You are surprised that you told the 
truth? Is that it?”, said Gr9.fton laughing. 

“O well, it isn’t usual for men to say 
just what they think, you know.” 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


“Then men usually say what they don’t 
think, eh?’’ 

“At it again, I see,” said the lawyer. 
“But then you know as well as any man 
that men generally are a set of dead moral 
cowards. Plenty of fellows that will fight 
you at the drop of a hat, that don’t dare 
avow an opinion that hasn’t been approved 
by public sentiment. They say that the 
voice of the people is the voice of God! 
Nonsense! You can see that it hasn’t been, 
through the most of the world’s history. It 
chose Barabbas, rather than Christ, long 
ago, and has kept it up ever since; kept on 
killing its Christs and elevating its Barab-. 
bases. History is only a record of wars, 
and the men most honored have always 
been the greatest robbers and murderers. 
And that is public opinion! That is what 
rules us now and that is the sort of stuff 
we are told is the voice of God! The 
truth is public opinion is made; it’s manu- 
factured, and it always has been, and 
never was it more under the control of the 
ruling power than to-day. The great news- 
papers of the day, make public opinion. 
You know that, and you probably suspect 
that they advocate what they do for 
pecuniary reasons, only you don’t suspect 
it half hard enough. It is all done for 
pay, in some way or other. Of course 
there are slight exceptions to this, like 
The Western Rural, and their influence 
is being felt, but it is up-hill work. Now 
that’s the way public opinion is made, 
you know it— and then to say that the 
voice of the majorit3^ made in this way, is 
entitled to respect is too funny.” And the 
law5-er laughed with a hard metallic sound. 

“Say, Grafton,” said he, “I don’t know 
what makes me talk so freely to you, un- 
less it’s because I know, or think I do, 
your opinion and feel like shocking you. 
Some influence appears to make me talk 
anyhow.” 

“You say that public opinion is con- 
trolled by the ‘ruling power,’ ” said Graf- 
ton, “and when I was here before \'ou told 


33 

me, if I remember right, that the churches 
formed the main support of the present 
order of things.” 

“Oh, well you see there’s a power be- 
hind that throne greater than the throne 
itself. Mammon is 'the god that is really 
worshiped. Not by all; some of the old 
maid members of the church are pure 
gold; they live right up to preaching, but 
the most of them keep the Jesus they really 
worship right down in their breeches 
pocket; or they wish they had him there.” 

“Look here, James,” said the farmer, 
warmly, “you are a little too fast and too 
bitter. You are allowing your feeling 
against some deacon or other, to run away 
with your judgment and 3’our memory. 
Now I am pretty confident that when we 
had our talk the other day that 3’ou ad- 
mitted that there was a remedy for present 
economic troubles, in public opinion, and 
that public opinion is changing for the bet- 
ter; now 3^ou berate public opinion, tell how 
it is made and say it isn’t worth minding.” 

“I suppose you think 3'ou have me on 
the hip now,” said the lawy'er mockingly, 
“but both views are right and both are en- 
tirely reconcilable. In the laws of nature 
we see force everywhere triumphant, there 
is no pity and no morality. The survival 
of the fittest is the rule. Cunning and 
strength succeed in the natural world and 
in all the operations of nature, now as 
the3' always have. The pig that steals the 
most swill becomes the best hog and the 
progenitor of the future herd. The plant 
that crowds other plants out of existence 
occupies the ground. Morally, all this ap- 
pears to be wiong and reprehensible to the 
last degree, but it is the wa3' of the world. 
Still, running through all the course of 
nature we can see that there has been an 
enormous advance. The remains of pre- 
historic plants and animals when compared 
with those which exist to-day are onh' re- 
markable for their size and hideousness. 
We see that through the untold myriads 
of years which have elapsed, that although 


34 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


selfishness and disregard of the rights of 
other organizations has prevailed, to the 
utter exclusion of what we regard as 
justice, still, some principle which is 
above and beyond our grasp has secured 
an advance. There has been a steady up- 
ward movement. The world in which we 
live has improved, and is improving. 
True, great periods of time are necessary 
in order to note great advances, but they 
have been made. The means used — com- 
plete selfishness on the part of all organ- 
izations engaged in the struggle, and utter 
disregard of the questions of right, judged 
by the moral standard — can only excite 
our aversion and contempt, and yet we see 
that through it all, there has been in oper- 
ation a power which has controlled every- 
thing and for good. There is something 
which man has not been able to measure, 
or weigh, or understand and that some- 
thing includes a design which is being ad- 
vanced and yet that advance is being 
secured by the use of what must seem to 
us, the most horrible and cruel means. 

“Well, now it is just so in mental ad- 
vancement; in the life of men. The most 
horrible things take place; things which 
we cry out against, which we ought to cry 
out against and yet we see that these very 
things which excite our horror or our dis- 
gust finally are controlled for the advance- 
ment of the race. 

“The Jews crucified Christ; without this 
there could have been no Christian religion. 
It was necessary. Public opinion sanc- 
tioned it. Public opinion brought it 
about, and this very public opinion was 
wrong then, as for the most part it always 
has been wrong, and yet it was a necessary 
agent in the transaction, although it was 
on the wrong side The power of public 
opinion induces change, mostly from 
wrong motives and should be withstood by 
the conscientious, and yet we cannot shut 
our eyes to the fact that there is a power 
which we cannot control, which is above 
and beyond the power of man to control. 


and this power is pushing the race onward 
aud upward in the course of life.” 

“There, I haven’t been talking but a few 
minutes only,” — taking out his watch — “a 
few minutes and yet I have given you a 
pretty good dose. I suppose you’ve come 
up on that mortgage business. Say, Grafton, 
you are a good listener.” , 

“I am always interested to hear a man 
talk, when he is saying what he really be- 
lieves. Yes, I came on the mortgage busi- 
ness.” 

“Well, I couldn’t get you but sixteen hun- 
dred on your place.” 

“Well, I left the matter in your hands 
entirely. Really I couldn’t do otherwise.” 

“All right, I suppose 3^our wife is here. 
I see you have the baby with you. Well, 
you bring her around and we will fix up 
the papers.” 

Grafton soon returned with his wife, she 
was introduced to the lawyer, signed her 
name mechanically and with Charlie re- 
turned to the hotel. 

“That makes it all snug, Grafton; I 
shan’t charge you anything for the ap- 
praisers ahhough it’s usual to do so. I 
know they didn’t have to go out to the 
farm, but it is usual to charge all the same. 
Now let’s see — beginning to figure on the 
table — there is the face of the mortgage 
that’s $i,6oo. Then out of that will come 
the old mortgage of $i,ooo, then there was 
$ioo of interest long past due. I’ll have to 
charge you two per cent per month on that; 
money is worth that now; it was due four 
months ago making $8. Then I’ll have to 
charge you $25 for releasing the old mort- 
gage, Then the interest for one j'ear in 
advance, that at nine per cent will be $144. 
Fixing up the abstract of title will be $5 
more. Then the note for $50, will make a 
total of $1,332 Take that from $1,600 
and we have $268. Run my figures over, 
Grafton, and see if I am right.” 

“I have,” said he; “if all the items haye 
to go in the figuring is correct.” 

“All the items go in? Of course 'they 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


35 


do. I didn’t charge you for appraising, 
that’s usually quite an item.” 

“The item of $25 for release of the old 
mortgage is all right, is it?” 

“Of course.” 

“Who gets that?” 

“Why, I am the agent of the company, 
you know.” 

“Yes, I know; but does the company get 
that?” 

“That’s the usual charge, Grafton. I 
have done this business on the square and 
made no unusual charge.” 

“I expect that’s true,” said the farmer, 
“anybody in your line would have done 
the same. Make out your check for the 
money and we will close up the trade.” 

Taking his check Grafton walked out of 
the office and down the street; coming to 
that portion of the street where the farm- 
ers’ wagons bringing wheat usually stood 
waiting for a buyer, curiosity induced him 
to examine the quality of the wheat and 
hear the price offered by the buyers. 
Among the sellers was an old German 
farmer, who could speak but little English; 
his wheat had among it traces of a worm 
which sometimes fastens itself upon wheat 
in the open bins of the country where it 
has become wet. It is not of much dam- 
age to wheat as it can only attack that 
which has been softened. A few grains of 
the German’s load only had - been affected, 
and yet the buyer was expatiating loudly 
on the damage this particular load would 
do if it were placed in the elevator with 
other wheat. He wouldn’t have it in his 
elevator for one hundred dollars. He had 
a feed mill however, in connection with 
his other business and could grind the 
stuff for feed and would give twenty cents 
a bushel for it, the price of good wheat 
being sixty cents. 

The old German seemed dazed and 
hardly knew what to do. As the buyer 
stepped away for a moment a friend came 
up and said: “Two blocks away there is a 
man who has a fanning mill; drive your 


wheat down there; put it through the fan- 
ning mill; you can have my wagon to use 
long enough for that; get a friend to drive 
it up here and he can sell your wheat for 
sixty cents.” 

The German nodded and drove away. 

As Grafton was leaving town sometime 
after, he went through the same street and 
happened along just as the old German, 
having made the exchange of wagons and 
sold his wheat, was now on his way home. 

“Who bought your wheat?” said the 
buyer to the old man. 

“You did,” said he, in broken English, 
“we put it in another wagon and cleaned 
it up and you gave sixty cents for it.” 

The man was furious with rage. To 
“beat a granger” was great fun, but to 
have a “granger” succeed in getting an 
advantage over him was so great a de- 
parture from the usual way that he scarcely 
knew what to say. 

As usual, however, when nothing else 
can be thought of, oaths come handy to 
the average man and these poured forth. 
The old German smiled peacefully and 
whipping up his horses was soon out of 
sight. 

The Graftons had an acquaintance who 
lived a few miles out of Branchton, on the 
road to Plainville and as it was now quite 
late in the afternoon they resolved to make 
him a visit and stay over night, going 
home in the morning. 

“Uncle” Jabez Smith was a man of 
marked force of character, who, although 
of genial manner and happy disposition 
still contrived to make whoever spent any 
time in his company feel that he “had 
views” which he considered important. 
The families had been acquainted in Ohio, 
so when the Graftons drove up to the 
Smith homestead, they were warmly wel- 
comed. “Uncle” Jabez and “Aunt” Sarah 
both came out at once, and the old man, 
the better to show his friendship and the 
warmth of his welcome, began at once to 
unhitch the Grafton horses from the wagon. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


36 

“Get out, George,” said he, “haint seen 
ye fer* a long time. We can talk every- 
thing all over and back agin.” 

Mrs. Grafton and Charlie soon followed 
Aunt Sarah into the house, while the “men 
folks” looked at stock and talked of crops 
and prospects until it was too dark to see, 
when an adjournment was had to the house. 

“What do you think of the Farmers Al- 
liance, that is taking such a hold, Uncle 
Jabez?” said Grafton. 

“Why it ought to be a good thing, 
George, it ought to be; the principles is 
all right, ef they would live up to ’em. 
But there it is; mebbe they will and 
mebbe they won’t. To judge by what’s 
past the prospect ain’t any too enouraging. 
Smart and designin’ men will set the whole 
carboodle to quarrelin’ about some fool 
thing or other that reely is of no im- 
portance at all. Like as not they will all 
be a wantin’ to cut each other’s throats 
about the blame Southern niggers a votin’ 
when their own votes is contracted, for, 
months before election and the goods de- 
livered regular. And the fools don t know 
enough to know that they are voted by the 
wire pullers. Why their own votes is al- 
ways used against their interest right 
along and then for ’em to be afraid the 
niggers’ votes ain’t counted is just too 
funny. And there ain’t one of ’em that 
dares to vote counter to what the lawyers 
of his party tells him is the straight thing, 
and I don’t believe there is a single one of 
them jack leg lawyers, up to town, that 
can’t go into an Alliance meetin’ or con- 
vention and set ’em to fightin’ one another 
like all rip in one hour’s time. Now if it 
can be done it stands to reason it will be. 
Farmers has got a heap to learn before 
they get down to business. Then see how 
jealous they be. Why if a farmer ge;s a 
nomination for some office, his own neigh- 
bors will say he is stuck up and like’s not, 
not vote for him. They would rather 
vote for some lawyer or professional man 
that can put on some style.” 


“I know,” said Grafton, “that has been 
the way, but don’t you think that they will 
learn after a while to stand by one another 
and let the political tricksters alone? It is 
only a short time since the Grange was 
first organized and farmers began to think 
of working together. Of course they 
would be expected to make mistakes and 
failures at first. Now you know how it is 
with a young colt when it first tries to 
stand. How many times it will throw 
itself down before it finally makes a suc- 
cess of it. If you saw this tor the first 
time, and without previous instruction, 
you would say ‘that thing can never stand, 
on those pipe stem legs,’ and yet it does, 
because there is a natural force behind it. 
Now don’t you think that the necessities of 
the farmer will finally induce him to stand 
too?” 

“Well I’d know,” said Uncle Jabez 
doubtfully, “colts mostly does stand up 
after tryin’ awhile, but farmers and labor- 
ers never has yet,” 

“But in the first settlement of our 
country, our people were all farmers and 
they humbled the power of even Great 
Britain and secured their independence.” 

“Oh shucks,” said Uncle Jabez, “whal’d 
the farmers a done without Patrick Henry, 
the Adamses, Jefferson, Dr. Franklin, 
Hamilton, Morris, Paine and the rest of 
the lawyers, and doctors and preachers 
that furnished the brain power of the 
whole thing? Why the}-^ never would have 
made a declaration, let alone a gaining 
their independence.” 

“Well, but Uncle Jabez, don’t you know 
there has been a great advance in general 
education,” said Grafton, unwilling to be 
thus Summarily put down, “and the farmer 
of to-day is away ahead of the farmer of a 
hundred years ago.” 

“Well now, don’t you fool yourself on 
that; the advance has not been with the 
farmer, in fact the farmer has pretty much 
stood still, and the other classes have all 
the fruits of victory in their hands. It 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


37 


will be a heap easier for the big bugs to 
manage the crowd now than it ever was 
before. Them revolutionary farmers 
would a been tolerable hard to manage; 
they had spunk and stamina and would 
a held out for an idee. Now-a-days, what 
with the big newspapers and all the law3'ers 
and means of information in the hands of 
the farmers’ opposers, it’ll be just as easy 
to manage ’em as can be. Why, what 
every man lives on is his thoughts and 
when he isn’t man enough to have thoughts 
he has prejudices, and that’s more power- 
ful still, and what with the rotten politics 
of our time and Grand Armj' sentiment, 
and hate of the other crowd all complete!}’- 
in the hands of the men that intend to 
keep the farmer in his place, or worse, why 
he just ain’t got no show; he’ll stop where 
he is until the powers that be want him to 
rise, and I hain’t seen no sign of that yet, 
have you?” 

“I can’t help but think,” said Grafton, 
“that you fail to give the rising spirit of 
independent thought sufficient prominence. 
I know there is a change in the air.” 

“Independent thought!” snorted Uncle 
Jabez. “who’s got the independent thought? 
not the farmers. They don’t dare say 
what they think; fact is, the most of ’em 
don’t think, they just take whatever some 
shiny coat sees fit to give ’em. Why if an 
average farmer happened to go up to the 
county seat with an independent thought 
in his head, a couple of them court house 
hangers on would make him so ashamed of 
it in a five minutes’ talk, that he’d go home 
and the next day be a usin’ ihe same argu- 
ments, on his -neighbors, that the court 
house fellers give him. But say, it’s time 
to go to bed and we can’t stay up all night 
a talkin’.” 

“I expect you miss your daughter, don’t 
ye?” said Uncle Jabez to Mrs. Grafton. 

“Yes, indeed. I little thought I should 
miss her as much as I have. Mary is a 
good girl and wonderfully thoughtful for 
one of her age. ^he was really more of a 


companion to me than a daughter. But 
she is coming home now in a few days, for 
a visit at any rate.” 

“I know you will enjoy that,” said Aunt 
Sarah. “A mother’s relation to a daughter 
is wonderfully close. A father seldom 
sympathizes fully with his son, but most 
mothers do with their daughters.” 

It was now quite late and as the desire 
to converse began to wane, the Graftons 
were shown to their room and sleep soon 
possessed the household. 

Before the sun rose the following morning 
the good people were astir. Mrs. Grafton 
was assisting Aunt Sarah in the prepara- 
tion of the morning meal and Uncle Jabez 
had already made Mr. Grafton take an ex- 
cursion to the “near field” to see a wonder- 
ful crop of corn that he was raising after a 
new method. 

Breakfast over, the friends separated 
with mutual ejaculations of, “come over 
often now,” and “you come over,” and 
“see’t you do now.” 

As the Graftons drove slowly along they 
began to talk of their situation. They 
must now leave the farm. There was no 
longer any hope of retaining it. Mrs. 
Grafton was depressed at the thought, but 
but strange as it may seem Mr. Grafton 
felt relieved. He surely could earn a liv- 
ing, and the farm had been such a struggle 
to hold and the living it had afforded him 
lacked all the advantages which he told 
himself his family ought to enjoy. Surely 
they would not in future fare worse than 
they had in the past. 

About noon they began to approach their 
home. As they came in sight of neighbor 
Jones’ house, which they would pass on 
their way, someone came down the path to 
the road, as though she would speak with 
them. 

“Why, that can’t be Mrs. Jones,” said 
Mrs. Grafton, “I wonder who it is.” 

“Maybe,” said her husband, “it’s the 
school miss.” 

Charlie had been asleep in the bottom of 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


38 

the wagon for some time but as they be- 
gan to near home he had awakened arid 
now at the thought of seeing someone 
whom he knew, he had roused himself and 
was looking eagerly at the approaching 
figure. As she came nearer the sunbonnet 
was thrown partly back from the face and 
at the same instant Charlie screamed ex- 
citedly: 

“It’s my sister! It’s my sister!” 

“It is Mary,” said both the parents at 
once. The ready tears came at once to 
Mrs. Grafton’s eyes; for the moment she 
was completely overcome. Charlie had 
clambered out of the wagon, his sister held 
him in her arms and covered his face with 
kisses; her face was wreathed with smiles, 
she laughed excitedly and all tne time the 
tears were freely flowing down her’cheeks. 

Mr. Grafton alone retained any semblance 
of self-possession. 

“Why, Mary,” said he, “how came you 
here?” 


CHAPTER XI. — MARY AT HOME. 

■VACATION was announced one 
\ / week sooner than we had been 
V expecting,” said Mary, “and I 
wanted to give you a surprise, so I came 
at once. I had carefully saved the money 
you left me, mother, to pay my fare. I 
came to Plainville yesterday. Neighbor 
Jones was in town and I came out with 
him. Oh dear, I am so glad to see you, 
and you look so natural, and so good. 
And how Charlie has grown. My! but you 
will be a big boy soon and then you won’t 
love me as you do now.” 

Charlie was very certain that such a 
result of growth was not to be thought of, 
while Mary climbed into the farm wagon 
and was most affectionately welcomed by 
both father and mother, and as they slowly 
proceeded on the homeward way, questions 
were asked and answered almost without 
number, and mutual expressions of joy in 
meeting were again and again exchanged. 

The parents looked with wonder and ad- 


miration upon their daughter. To them 
she seemed like a dream. Was this the 
child that but the other day had been de- 
livered into their keeping, whose very be- 
ginning had been with them, whose child- 
ish prattle still lingered in their ears? 
Could it be? Were they not dreaming? 
Their child, so well remembered, was a 
chubby, little, flaxen-haired midget, with 
childish ways. This was a woman, whose 
abundant brown hair and soulful hazel 
eyes were accompanied by that indefinable 
something which gave evidence of a mind 
of high resolve within. 

Yes, Mary had come, their daughter was 
with them now, but for the first time there 
came over them a realization of the truth 
of the fatherhood of God; that each soul 
bears first relation to the great First Cause; 
that all alike are afloat upon an unknown 
sea and that existence, fate, destiny and 
the experiences of life, which make or mar 
our futures, come to each soul in silence 
and alone. Form what relationships we 
may, the I within us must walk alone. 

They were soon at home. Mrs. Grafton 
busied herself with the preparation of the 
noonday meal. Pleasure beamed in her 
every look and motion. They were again 
united; this was their first reunion; how 
happy they were; how Mary had improved; 
ah, well, she was now eighteen; it was to 
be expected that she would have changed 
somewhat, but she had not expected quite 
so great a transformation in so short a 
time. And that glorious creature was her 
daughter! Why, how strange it seemed. 
How happy she was. Ah! the good God 
had been kind to her, she thought. 

Mary and Charlie, hand in hand, ran 
from place to place to look at all the well 
remembered pets. Would old Shep know 
her? Indeed he did. How the trees had 
grown and even the garden must be visited 
and the chickens called and fed. Seated 
about the table once more they could 
scarcely eat. Thoughts too sacred for ut* 
terance filled their minds and but foi 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


39 


Charlie’s prattle, conversation would have 
been stilled by very excess of joy. The first 
questions had been asked and answered; 
the deeper thoughts were struggling with" 
in. 

Dinner over, Mr. Grafton sat awhile, 
but he could not talk freely as he had been 
wont to do. His eyes followed his wife 
and daughter as they performed the ever 
recurring tasks of the household and his 
mind reverted to the story of the ancient 
condemned to spend his time in constantly 
rolling up the hill a stone-, which as con- 
stantly rolled down again. Women did 
have a hard time of it. Of that he was 
convinced How faithful and unselfish 
most of them were. If beloved and happy 
in their homes, the}'^ always were. Were 
they not? Could he think of any who were 
not? And before him passed in review, 
one after another, the different households 
of his acquaintance. He could recall no 
excep tion to the rule. This was not true 
of men. No, men were not thus controlled; 
with them the home with its joys and sor- 
rows was but an incident of life. To the 
true womanly woman, it was life itself. 

Rousing himself from his reverie he 
went out, aimlessly at first; the day was a 
broken one and now far spent, but not 
many steps had been taken before work 
was presented which needed to be done 
and this led to more. Shortly he found 
himself busily employed and interested in 
the completion of what had long been 
neglected. But the ever busy mind would 
not be still. The work of the farm; was 
not that, too, a rolling up the hill of a 
stone which b}' all the forces of nature was 
forced again to the bottom? No, the scene 
was changed, the hills were not the same, 
the landscape varied from hour to hour; 
the Summer’s sun and the Winter’s cold, 
the bursting bud and the falling leaf, 
secured an infinite variety. The kaleido- 
scope might be old and well worn, but the 
views were never quite the same. 

The four walls of a kitchen— oh! there 


was little coloring there. The same stew 
pan and coffee pot constantly in view, until 
perchance, worn and defaced they suc- 
cumbed to the inevitable. And then— well, 
others were brought to share the same fate. 

. Ah, women did need to be loved and cher- 
ished. That was the contract. This was 
the promise on the part of her master. 
Master? Yes, man was the master and the 
life of the wife was at his mercy. 

Should this be so? Was it just? 

He could not tell. Women were not 
happy though, who looked down upon their 
husbands. Indeed, did they not desire to 
look up to them? Was ever woman truly 
mated who did not fully esteem and rever- , 
ence her mate? To despise him, was to in- 
flict untold horrors upon the future of the 
soul confided to her care. That was sure. 

The loved wife and mother was the hap- 
piest individual of the whole human race. 
Yes, that was true; she found liberty in 
love and happiness in duty, and ye't for it 
all was she dependent upon another. This 
had been the unvarying history of the race. 
Happy marriage had but few conditions, 
but those conditions must most inflexibly 
be met. 

The unmarried were not to be con- 
sidered; unmarried men and women were 
alike in their social and natural rights. 
All this was quite apart from the question 
of marriage, the creation of homes and the 
uplifting of the race. Every child pos- 
sessed the right to be well born. If not 
well born it was defrauded. Whatever de- 
frauded the future child of its birthright 
was inexpressibly wicked and would most 
surely be revenged. Could an3'thing 
worse be conceived? 

And what of Mary’s future? She was 
now a woman; so far the direction of her 
life had been'in the hands of her parents. 
She would yet be guided by them. What 
should they do? What could they do? ' 

Povert}' never seemed so crushing in its 
weight before. The prayer of Agur came 
up before him. Give me not poverty, “lest 


40 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


I be poor and steal, and take the name of 
my God in vain,” 

Yes, one felt like questioning the for- 
tune that denied him the right to “provide 
things needful” for his family. And now 
was the time; Mary’s destiny would soon 
be fixed for life— and those who might come 
after her? Ah! how far reaching the re- 
sponsibility of life. Did the dear God load 
man with such responsibility and then 
deny him power to act in accordance with 
the dictates of his reason and his judg- 
ment? Was there a God? And where did 
he dwell? And what were the evidences of 
his existence? Did not all the operations 
, of nature proceed without regard to man, 
and was he not the mere sport of circum- 
stance, a leaf from the tree of life, afloat 
upon the ocean of existence for a brief 
moment, soon to sink into the depths of 
unknown and unknowable nothingness, — 
that bourne from whence no traveler re- 
turns? 

How soon does the wisest reach the little 
limit of his knowledge. Faith and Hope 
buoy him up, but what are faith and hope 
which do not rest upon knowledge? 

Grafton had been busy with his thoughts 
as he worked in the garden, and had not 
noticed the approaching footsteps of his 
daughter, who now stood beside him. 

“Father,” said she, “why do you stay 
out here?” 

“Why, daughter, don’t you know that 
'men must work and women must weep?’ ” 

“Oh yes; but not always; life isn’t all 
working and weeping. We’ve been having 
a happy time in the house, Charlie and I 
have been playing pranks and mother 
laughed like a girl at our folly, and we 
want you to come in.” 

“It is nearly time now,” said h*e, “to do 
the evening chores; it will soon be night.” 

“Well, we will all help, woq’t we, Charlie?” 

Looking up from his task Mr. Grafton 
saw that his wife and little son were near 
at hand, coming from the house. 

“We couldn’t let Mary get away from 


us,” said the mother, with an evident at- 
tempt at gaiet}', “she has been bringing 
back the old times in the house and the 
children have had such a romp,” 

“Yes, and mother played too,” said 
Charlie. 

* ‘Becoming young again, are you, Emily ?” 

“Well, George,” she said, “we never 
had an eighteen year old daughter come 
home to visit us before. And do you 
know, I’m almost afraid of her, she makes 
me think so much of your sister Ellen as 
she was at Mary’s age. Two or three 
limes I have called her Ellen and I am 
afraid I’ve lost the little Mary that used to 
cling to my apron.” 

“Ah, mother,” said Mary putting her 
arm about her mother’s waist, “you have 
not lost your daughter’s love. Come 
father, throw down that old hoe and let us 
all go and feed the stock and see the pigs 
eat their corn, as we used to do.” 

Willing hands made light the evening 
work and when done, all gathered upon 
the porch and in the fading light discussed 
the family hopes and fears. 

Mrs. McFarland had intimated to Mary 
that some changes would be made in the 
arrangement of classes at the Institute, 
during the vacation, and that she might 
be enabled to offer her a position as teacher 
of some of the under classes for the ensuing 
year. This would release her from work 
in the kitchen and allow her to continue 
her studies in some of the higher branches. 
The lady was disposed to be very “thrifty” 
in the arrangement however, and had not 
hesitated to convey the impression to Mary 
that she ought to thank her stars for the 
opportunity of becoming a teacher and 
that she must not think of receiving pav 
for her services. 

“If this is done,” said Mary, “and I am 
engaged. Madam Emory, who has been 
receiving $40 per month, will be dis- 
charged, and I am so sorry for her, as she 
needs the position and pay.” 

“Perhaps,” said Mr. Grafton, “if she is 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


41 


discharged she can obtain another situa- 
tion, for it seems to me you ought to con- 
tinue at the Institute.” 

“But how can I get clothing to wear?” 
said Mary. “I’ve worn threadbare my 
little stock and I could not have got 
through the last year if Mrs. McFarland 
had not given me a nice dress of hers that 
was spoiled for her in the making.” 

“It seems to me,” said Mr. Grafton, 
“that there is an opportunity for you at 
the Institute which you must avail your- 
self of and as opportunities come so seldom 
you must write and tell Mrs. McFarland 
that you accept; as for the clothing we 
will sell the last cow, if need be, to get it. 
At present this will not be necessary.” 

Mrs. Grafton joined in the opinion that 
this was the course that met her approval, 
although she dreaded to allow Mary again 
to leave her. 

But what will you do? Must you 
leave the farm?” said Mary mournfully. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Grafton with determin- 
ation, “we shall be obliged soon to give it 
up and I think that we will not remain 
longer than next Spring. I can, by clos- 
ing out what we have here get enough to 
start us in a very small way upon a claim 
in the western part of the State. Perhaps 
I may be able to make a new farm that 
will be valuable at sometime in the future. 
We will get on in some fashion, never 
fear.” 

“I didn’t know,” said Mary, “until I 
went away how terribly hard women can 
be toward each other. They seem to ac- 
knowledge among themselves that they 
occupy an inferior position, and so when 
they have a semblance of authority over 
others, they tyrannize. Mrs. McFarland 
meant to be just and yet she was terribly 
hard and cruel to the kitchen girls and 
chamber maids, of whom there were three 
or four. She did not appear to think they 
had any rights or privileges and all her 
little power appeared to be put forth to 
crush any aspirations which they might 


have. 'Young girls even if of foreign 
birth and ignorant, have hopes and expec- 
tations, and yet, so far as could be judged 
by her actions, Mrs. Mcharland did not 
acknowledge their right to think of any- 
thing higher than peeling potatoes and 
washing dishes. There must be truth in 
tlie Bible account of the subordinate posi- 
tion assigned to women, for they seem to 
recognize it themselves. Cursed them- 
selves they endeavor quite generally to 
keep from rising, those whom they con- 
sider as occupying a lower position.” 

“Life is a riddle at best,” said Mr. Graf- 
ton, “and yet there is nothing more sure 
than tnat injustice perpetuates itself. 
Slaves make the meanest overseers.” After 
a moment’s silence he said: 

“I think now that you are here, Mary, 
to keep your mother company for the 
Summer, that as soon as we are through 
with our harvest, that I will go on a pros- 
pecting tour and see what can be done in 
the way of finding a new location, and 
when that is determined on, will make the 
change while we yet have a few dollars to 
help ourselves with. For if we remain 
where we are until Spring, we shall come 
out ‘Spring poor’ and unable to make any 
change whatever.” 

Affairs at the Grafton homestead moved 
gently along. Mary was both guest and 
member of the family. Mother and 
daughter were constantly together and the 
mutual exchange of confidence was unin- 
terrupted. Together they performed the 
tasks of the day and together they received 
the occasional calls and congratulations of 
well wishers. 

At a church“festival” which theGraftons 
attended in Plainville, shortly after Mary’s 
arrival home, Mr. Ellery, the minister, 
was the first to congratulate Mrs. Grafton 
upon the possession of so charming a 
daughter. 

“I thought,” said he, “that she would 
improve her opportunities, and it is appar- 
ent that she has done so. She will make a 


42 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


grand woman if the promise of her youth 
is kept.” 

Mr, Busteed, who was present, had over- 
heard the eulogies of the preacher, and 
shortly after, finding him separated from 
the Grafions, took him to task for the ex- 
pression of his views. 

“Don’t you know,” said he, “that 
Grafton is financially busted? That he has 
got to leave his farm; that he is mortgaged 
out, and that it’s all brought about by his 
extravagant management, sending that 
girl off to an expensive school and the 
like?” 

“Well, Mr. Busteed,” said the preacher 
quite decidedly, “if he had not sent her, 
he would have failed in the most impor- 
tant duty that will probably come to him 
while he lives. ” 

“But isn’t it a man’s first duty to care 
for his family and provide for their wants?” 

“Yes, but you ought to know that it is 
written that ‘man shall not live by bread 
alone.’ Life, Mr, Busteed, is a problem, a 
preparation for something to come, or, it 
is a riddle that no man can read. Now, 
this being the main business of a true life, 
the enlargement of the powers of the mind, 
of the soul, is absolutely the only way to 
make that preparation; to ‘increase the 
future capital.” 

“Why Mr. Ellery, you talk like a free 
thinker. I thought you preached Christ 
and free salvation?” 

“So I do, so I do,” said he with a twinkle 
of the eye, ‘ but I want Christ to have 
something that’s worth saving for his 
trouble.” 

Mr. Busteed was not very well versed in 
theology, or, indeed in anything but the 
getting of money, and he moved away 
from the preacher with a vague idea that 
Mr. Ellery was becoming radical, or in 
some way departing from the orthodox 
standards. 

Mr. Busteed was a church member for 
much the same reason as that which in- 
duced him to insure his property. Having 


paid the premium and placed the policies 
in his safe, the matter was dismissed from 
his mind. Somebody else was carrying 
his risks and he did not propose to trouble 
himself further in relation to the matter. 
In religion, “Jesus paid it all” cam.e very 
near expressing his creed. To be sure a 
man ought not to be guilty of “out break- 
ing” sin, but men in his opinion were very 
fallible creatures. In total depravity he 
firmly believed, man was bad by nature; 
entirely so, and as he couldn’t make him- 
self better if he tried, he “let out the job,” 
as he expressed it, and in his view, his 
duty consisted only in occasionally inter- 
viewing his Agent who had the whole mat- 
ter in charge. As for himself being 
“diligent in business” was the duty which 
in his opinion overshadowed all others. 

Thus equipped and prepared he was 
able not only to deal harshly with those 
who came into his power, but to justify 
himself with what he termed religion, and 
woe to the luckless wight who failed not 
only in paying notes but in “believing” as 
well; for such the world had no room. 

Mr. Busteed did not fail to note that 
at the festival Mary Grafton was the ob- 
served of all observers. Mary had always 
been a favorite, but to the general favor 
with which she had been received was now 
added somewhat of curiosity in viewing 
the girl who was struggling not for social 
recognition, dress and the triumphs of so- 
called society, but rather for education 
and intellectual advancement. Easily, she 
was the queen of the evening, and to 
Busteed the fact was an enigma. He 
could not solve it. She wasn’t as pretty as 
doll faced Jenny Harris and her dress was 
plain; jewelry she had none; her people 
were poor, with prospects of future poverty 
in store. 

Moving uneasily'^way, Busteed came in 
contact with Grafton; slightly irritated, 
why he knew not, he would have passed 
without speaking,but this he could not well 
do without appearing to offer rudeness to an 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 43 


old acquaintance. He did not want to do 
that. 

"Well, Grafton,” said he, "they tell 
me that you are going to leave your 
farm.” 

"Yes, that is my intention, in fact I shall 
be obliged to do so.” 

"Obliged? Why, you will go of your own 
free will, won’t you?” 

"No,circumstances will compel me.” 

"Well, you are responsible for the circum- 
stances, ain’t you?” 

"The reason why I shall lelive the 
farm,” said Grafton, "is because I can not 
raise money enough, by cropping, to pay 
interest on money at a high rate, and 
afford a respectable living for my family. 
I am not responsible for the high rate of 
interest, or for the low prices of my pro- 
ducts, and between these two the necessity 
arises. These two items tell the whole 
story.” 

"Well Grafton, farming must be profit- 
able generally, or so many would not re- 
main in the business. Half our people in 
this country are farmers, and it must be 
that they are satisfied or they would quit 
a business that didn’t pay.” 

"You forget, Busteed, that opportunity 
is lacking for general change. It can’t be 
done. Look at the reports in the papers 
of the horrible condition of the coal miners 
in many places. You say if they don’t like 
their business 'let them quit;’ but they 
can’t. Men do not easily change the 
habits of a life. Thousands of women 
and girls are stitching their lives away for 
a few cents a day. You say ‘if their work 
doesn’t suit let them quit.’ But it'is im- 
possible, Men ^ and women in the mass, 
are bound by their surroundings. The 
peons of Mexico might emigrate, and the 
factory operatives might stop their wast- 
ing toil, if it were possible, but in the mass 
and in general, it is not. Conditions are 
made for most men and most men are dis- 
satisfied, in part at least, but environment 
is too powerful to allow radical change. 


Men who know that they are in the frying 
pan fear the fire.” 

"Then according to your view most 
folks are being fried for their fat,” 

"Substantially that’s true.” 

"Well, who’s a doing the frving?” said 
Busteed rather hotly. 

"I will answer you as Horace Greeley 
did an inquirer a good many years ago, 
when he told his questioner that the great 
difference between the wealthy and pros- 
perous and the poor and impoverished, 
was brought about by the fact that one 
class paid interest on money and the other 
received it. 

"Well, if interest is such a power why 
shouldn’t men save and shortly they could 
begin to loan.” 

"We were talking about people at large, 
the general public, and not special cases. 
Now if everybody undertook loaning who 
would they loan to?” 

"Oh shucks,” said Busteed with a dis- 
gusted air, "let every fellow look out for 
himself and do the best he can, that’s my 
plan.” 

"Yes,” said Grafton, "that’s the way 
they do in hell.” 

Both men had by this time become some- 
what heated by their controversy, and 
realizing that the place was not suited to a 
discussion, they separated, each somewhat 
disgusted with the other. 

The festival soon came to an end. Not 
so, with its consequences. 

Mr. Busteed felt somewhat aggrieved, at 
what he considered the rather lax views 
expressed by Mr. Ellery, and openly ques- 
tioned, whether it might not be time to 
make a change in the pastorate. Indeed 
he did not hesitate to charge the good 
man with advocating unsound views upon 
the "atonement,” "and,” said he, "that is 
a mighty important matter, and we can’t 
afford to allow anybody to preach unsound 
doctrine when it won’t cost any more to 
have the thing straight.” 

Thus bad begun, while worse remained 


44 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


behind. Within a day or two, Mr. Graf- 
ton heard it reported that he and Busteed 
had “almost fit” at the festival; that Bus- 
teed had said that he would fry the fat out 
of him (Grafton) and that Grafton had told 
him (Busteed) to go to hell. 


CHAPTER XII. — MR. ELLERY IN TROUBLE. 

N ot only was all Plainville very 
much interested in the questions 
which appeared to have arisen at 
the festival, but the surrounding country 
as well took them up. No person could 
be found who was not ready to express an 
opinion or back it up, if need be, with 
arguments more or less mighty. The con- 
troversy very soon took the shape which 
might have been seen from the first and 
the two sides, which are necessary in a 
quarrel of any sort, resolved themselves 
into those who attacked and those who 
defended Mr. Ellery. 

Busteed led the attack; Mr. Ellery had 
previously shown signs of independence, 
but at the festival he had openly opposed 
him and as he furnished the larger share 
of the preacher’s support, this, in his opin- 
ion, was rank ingratitude and deserved fit- 
ting punishment. The officers and more 
prominent members of the church, sym- 
pathized with Mr. Ellery, but felt called 
upon by the exigencies of the situation to 
act with Busteed, and Mr. Ellery shortly 
found himself in the queer position of one 
who was openly defended, with one or two 
exceptions, only by those outside of his 
flock. All treated him with deference and 
no one attempted argument with him, but 
wherever two or three were gathered to- 
gether the matter in dispute was sure to be 
introduced and discussed, generally with 
much heat and feeling. Gradually, too, 
the subject under discussion, as is often 
the case, underwent change as the discus- 
sion proceeded. Busteed had charged Mr. 
Ellery with giving utterance to unsound 
doctrine and proposed his dismissal upon 
that ground, although it was very gener- 


ally felt that his real reason was the fact 
that Mr. Ellery was disposed to free him- 
self from the rather irksome control exer- 
cised by Busteed over the affairs of the 
church. This had been the original cause, 
but in the discussions which followed it 
was shown that the preacher had taken 
sides with Grafton and against Busteed; 
that he had upheld the idea that the 
farmer and his family were entitled to the 
good things of life and society as well as 
those who only absorbed what others had 
created. He had thus become, in the eyes 
of the farmers, their champion; discussion 
proceeded upon the new base and would 
shortly have left Mr. Ellery entirely out 
of the question had not something oc- 
curred which again made him a prominent 
figure. 

Mr. Ellery possessed a very modest 
turn-out in the shape of a horse and 
buggy. The horse was fat and sleek but 
somewhat the worse tor many years of 
wear, still the preacher and his wife con- 
trived to extract a deal of comfort from 
the possession of these means of locomotion. 

One morning, while the controversy was 
at its height, when Mr. Ellery went into 
his stable to feed his horse, he was hor- 
rified to find that some miscreant had 
entered the stable during the previous 
night and sheared the old horse’s mane and 
the hair from his tail completely and 
smoothly. In addition, the wretch had 
with white paint traced on the sides of the 
poor beast broad stripes of white, evidently 
intended to represent ribs; about his eyes 
an enormous pair of spectacles had been 
painted in white, by the same villainous 
hand 

The result was appalling. Deeply in- 
jured as he was, Mr. Ellery could not for- 
bear laughing at the odd expression pro- 
duced in the looks of the poor beast by the 
spectacles. For the moment he was al- 
most stunned by the sense of personal in- 
jury involved in the indignity thus thrust 
upon him; the next instant he hurried into 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


45 


the house to acquaint his wife with the new 
phase which the argument against himself 
had taken. 

Mrs. Ellery could see nothing to laugh 
at in the mournful condition of the poor 
beast and at once set to work to see if the 
paint would rub off. But it had been done 
"in oil" though evidently not by one of 
the old masters. They could not remove 
it and as anything which would remove 
the paint would probabl)^ remove the hair 
also, they were at a stand still regarding 
further procedure. 

After breakfast the parson went over to 
"Uncle” Bill Weldon’s blacksmith shop. 
Uncle Bill had shod the horse from time to 
time and like most blacksmiths having 
picked up a knowledge of many things 
useful to the keepers of horses, Mr. Ellery 
had gradually come to consider him the 
proper person to consult whenever any- 
thing ailed hishorse. Something ailed him 
now, that was clear. He went for advice. 

"Mr. Weldon," said he, "I want you to 
go over and see my horse.” 

"Sartin, sartin,” said Uncle Bill, "what 
’pears to be the matter with him?" 

On the way the preacher related the 
whole shameful story. 

"That’s John Busteed,” said the black- 
smith "I’ve heard him poke fun at the old 
boss and I remember sometime ago of his 
making spectacles with chalk over an old 
horse’s eyes. Them specs was soon rub- 
bed off, but the idee is the same and there 
ain’t another one in the place that would 
have thought of harming your horse but 
him. He’s the feller.” 

After viewing the horse Weldon pre- 
vailed upon Mr. Ellery to turn him over to 
his care. 

"I’ll scrape off what I can,” said he, 
"with a right sharp knife, and then I’ll go 
over him careful with benzine and I can 
clean him off, I guess, quite natural; the 
mane and tail, however, is cleaned off quite 
on-natural. It’ll take time, and lots of it, 
to fix them.” 


Weldon was one of Mr. Ellery’s parti- 
sans; and the opportunity of showing up 
the miserable character of "the opposition” 
was altogether too good a one to be allowed 
* to pass unimproved. Before the morning 
had passed and while Mr Weldon was en- 
gaged in scraping the paint from the 
horse’s sides, most of the male inhabitants 
of the village had viewed the animal and 
expressed an opinion as to the author of 
the deed. None thought the elder Busteed 
privy to the transaction, but all felt that 
the insult to the worthy owner, which in- 
sult each partisan took home to himself, 
had been the result of the objections raised 
by Busteed to Mr. Ellery. 

"The idee is,” said one, rather more in- 
temperate in speech than the rest, "that 
nobody has a right to do anything or say 
anything contrary to the wishes of the 
fellows with money. Old Busteed and the 
fellows that work with him fix money 
matters round here pretty much as they 
like and now he’s a-trying to say what the 
preacher shall think. Must be something 
he’s afraid of, for just as soon as Mr. 
Ellery had but a word ot encouragement 
for Grafton’s idee, Busteed is determined to 
get rid of him.” 

The shearing ot the parson’s horse 
aroused a depth of feeling among all classes 
of people in the vicinity almost unprece- 
dented and discussions involving the rights 
of thought and property and the control 
which one man might rightfully exercise 
over another, w§re everywhere rife. 

It so happened that at the time of these 
occurrences that the Farmers Alliance was 
being organized in the vicinity of Plain- 
ville and to the questions which had taken 
their rise, as the reader has seen, in the 
discussions between Messrs. Grafton, 
Ellery and Busteed, were added the gen- 
eral subject of the relations of capital and 
labor, as exemplified b}' the Alliance and 
the right of the producer of wealth to an 
equitable share of his own production. 

Feeling ran high; no one escaped, and a 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


46 

disposition was manifested to question 
much which had heretofore passed without 
challenge. 

Mr. Grafton made his trip into the west- 
ern part of the State as he had announced. 
Instead of going as he had intended, b)’ 
wagon, upon reflection he had changed his 
plan and taken the cars. A few days’ so- 
journ in a western county was sufficient. 
It was apparent that all the difificulties 
which surrounded the farmer in the vicin- 
ity of Plainville were in full force, or 
would soon come into play, in the western 
counties and that to these difficulties would 
be added a greater uncertainty in crop- 
ping, which he did not care to test, 
“Uncle Sam’s” desirable farms were all 
taken in Kansas; that was worse. 

He had fully made up his mind to leave 
the farm before he was compelled to do so 
and while the opportunity for disposing of 
his equities yet remained. 

Being in Plainville one day he thought 
he would ask Mr. Busteed if he could tell 
him how he could make the change. He 
did not expect much help from Busteed, 
but as he was familiar with all the business 
transactions of the vicinity it occurred to 
him that some hint of advantage might pos- 
sibly be obtained. 

Inquiring for Mr. Busteed he was told 
that he was in his office. Entering he 
found Mr. Busteed in company with a 
farmer with whom he was well acquainted. 

“I don’t want to intrude,” said Grafton, 
politely, “but I just called to ask if you 
could put me onto a way of trading my 
farm?” 

“No intrusion, Grafton, sit down,” said 
Busteed quite pleasantly; “I would do any- 
thing I could for you, in reason, though I 
don’t expect you would give me credit for 
it, if I did. Fact is, Grafton, you are not 
disposed to give me any show for my life. 
I expect one of these days that the Farm- 
ers Alliance will order me before it for 
trial. I understand that you are a promi- 
nent member and I wouldn’t be surprised 


to have you turn up as one of the judges 
to try my case,” and the money loaner 
laughed, as though he had said something 
quite witty. 

“You seem to think that you ought to be 
tried, ’’said Grafton. 

“Oh, come now, don’t be so sharp; don’t 
you see how good-natured I am; I believe 
in everybody having a fair show, and then 
if they don’t take advantage of their oppor- 
tunities, I don't know what more can be 
done; people can’t be like little birds and 
have their victuals just pushed down their 
throats Some of you folks that talk so 
much of the government doing this and 
that, appear to want the government to 
feed those who won’t hunt worms; now I 
am satisfied to hunt for my worms,” 

“That may be all right for you,” said 
Grafton, “but how do you suppose it suits 
the worms you catch?” 

“Can’t seem to please you at all to-day,” 
said Busteed, “and I am sure I don’t know 
of any chance to trade your farm just 
now. Might be a chance this Fall, if 
there is any immigration comes in and we 
raise a good crop. I should just like to 
know now, Grafton, why it is we can’t get 
along. lam sure I have the kindest feelings 
in the world for you and yet you seem to 
think I am a horrible kind of a man. What’s 
the reason?” 

“Oh, you enlarge on the feeling. Men 
who think as you do are too common to 
consider ‘horrible,’ but the difference in 
mode of thought between your class of 
men and the class being rapidly created by 
the Alliance is radical. Now we believe 
that no man should possess property or 
have anything which he did not earn or re- 
ceive in exchange for some valuable con- 
sideration.” 

“Why I believe that; you can’t shut me 
out on such a rule as that. Fact is that is 
a rule of law, as I understand it.” 

“Well, now,” said Grafton, “let us test 
this rule. A man buys lottery tickets in, 
let us suppose, an honestly conducted lot- 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


47 


tery; the drawing takes place and he diaws 
a blank; now for the money that he paid 
for his ticket did he receive ‘a valuable con- 
sideration’ — was the exchange between the 
buyer of the ticket and the seller, an equit- 
able one, that should be upheld by the law?” 

"By no means,” said Busteed very 
cheerfully, "the man who bought the 
ticket is swindled, because his chance of 
gain is so remote, and the law very prop- 
erly steps in and prevents lotteries, as 
opposed to public policy, even if honestly 
conducted, upon the ground that the gen- 
eral public must necessarily lose large 
amounts of its money with no return. The 
lottery company gets the mone}' of trie 
public without returning a valuable con- 
sideration. The law holds that the millionth 
of a chance to win is no chance at all and 
prevents the swindle because the company 
fails to return the valuable consideration 
which must be given to constitute an equit- 
able exchange. Oh, I am solid on that 
prove ‘no consideration’ and you can knock 
any contract cold.” 

"Seven-eighths of our farmers are living 
on mortgaged farms,” said Grafton; "the 
mortgage is made to secure the return of 
the money borrowed; interest is paid in 
addition; now you know that under pres- 
ent circumstances the givers of these mort- 
gages have no more chance of paying off 
their mortgages than the holders of lottery 
tickets have of drawing fortunes. A few 
may be able to pay and a few ma}^ draw 
prizes, but generally speaking it will be 
impossible, and you money loaners know 
it. Now let us see how it works in actual 
practice. There' is Charley Bagby, a 
steady hard- working man with a small 
family, who has been in debt and struggling 
along for four years. He has had to have 
money and has paid your bank the highest 
rates for it; in order to get money, he has 
sometimes paid large premiums in addition 
to the interest. Then he has bought teams 
and machinery, often paying a premium 
above cash price, in order to buy ‘on time,’ 


the only way he could buy. He began 
farming with only a capital of a few hun- 
dred dollars. He bought a quarter section 
farm for $i,8oo, worked hard on it for four 
years, spent no idle time and fooled away 
no money except to your bank for inter- 
est. At the end of the four years the 
place is sold for $3,800, owing to the ad- 
vance in land caused by the big crops of 
wheat raised those years. Charley pays 
up his notes and finds that he hasn’t quite 
as much left after four years of hard work 
as he began with. And further he has 
kept a book account which shows that he 
has paid in premiums and interest, for the 
use of money, between twenty-two and 
twenty-three hundred dollars in four 
years.* At the end of the time he is 
cleaned out and turned adrift; now what 
has he got for the more than two thousand 
dollars of interest money which he has 
paid? The ‘machine’ has taken from him 
this money; the result of his toil; what did 
it return to him as an equivalent? Did he 
really get anything?” 

"Why he must have thought he was get- 
ting something or he wouldn’t have paid 
the money.” 

"Of course he was fooled,” said Grafton, 
"but it is clear now that he really got 
nothing. He might as well have played 
against a faro bank. Charley’s money is 
gone from him, your bank got the most of 
it; what’s the consideration you gave him 
and where is it? Charley’s case is a little 
more pronounced than a good many others 
because he went through the flint mill so 
quick and we all know the facts, but if we 
figure right down close, we find that most 
farmers are on the same road and certain 
to land in the same net. The fact is, in all 
these transactions there has been no 
equitable consideration returned for the 
huge amounts they have paid as interest 
and as you say, if an equitable consider- 
ation is lacking, the business is in the na- 
ture of a fraud It is a skin game. We 


*Fact. 


48 THE GRAFTONS OR 

have become so familiar, however, with 
this way of doing business, and it has been 
practiced so long, that we cannot blame 
parties who fail to see the wrongfulness of 
it. People are led by thefr interests until 
they are completely blinded. Society is to 
blame, the church is to blame, but no in- 
dividual, no set of individuals, no class of 
men, can be charged with this wrong. 
And yet the law upholds it. Society would 
hold up its hands in holy horror if the law 
makers should protect and enforce the de- 
mands of card gamblers and yet the re- 
sults of their demands would be no worse 
for the victims than is the case under the 
present system. True it is quite respect- 
able to be on the winning side in this game; 
the churches uphold it, but that really 
shows nothing I suppose that there is no 
form of injustice between man and man 
worse than chattel slavery, but that was 
upheld by the churches and those who 
would abolish it were denied all social rec- 
ognition, not so very long ago. So you 
see, Mr. Busteed that there is a radical dif- 
ference between our ideas of right and 
wrong to start out with. Now I suppose 
you would not say that a man ought alwa 5 ’^s 
to have all he. earns?” 

“Why,” said Busteed, “if a man was al- 
ways to get all he earned how could it pay 
any man to hire another?” 

“That’s not the point at all, never mind 
that bridge until you come to it. The 
question is, ought a man to have all he 
earns? 1 say yes. You say no, and seek 
for a plan to take from him some portion 
of his earnings. That is the spirit which 
resulted in slavery. You propose to toll 
his earnings by some financial arrange- 
ment; it makes no difference how it is ac- 
complished, if you take from him the pro- 
fits of his labor you enslave him.” 

It is not probable that Mr. Busteed had 
ever given serious consideration to the 
thoughts presented b}' Grafton before, but 
as he happened to be in good humor he 
had determined to remain on good terms 


LOOKING FORWARD. 

with Grafton in any event, so he curbed 
for the moment any feeling of resentment 
he may have felt, saying: 

“Well, it’s plain that we don’t look at 
things alike, but our interests in the long 
run ought to be the same. Whatever is 
for the best interests of the community 
ought to please us both.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Grafton, “the onlj-^'ques- 
tion is as to what is really for the best in- 
terests of people generally.” 

As Grafton came out of the office he saw 
gathered a little knot of men eagerly dis- 
cussing something which they apparently 
regarded as quite important. As he was 
passing, Weldon, who made one of the 
gathering, called to him: 

“Say, George, look here,” 

“What is it?” said he. 

“Why it’s this,” said Weldon. “I have 
got a clue so that I know positively that 
John Busteed sheared and painted the 
preacher’s horse and I thought I’d get your 
idee of what we’d ought to do about it.” 

“What’s your clue?” 

“Well, let me tell you. John was seen 
to drive out of town in his buggy and he 
threw, when he thought no one was look- 
ing, an old paint can and brush over the bank 
into the creek. It didn’t happen to strike the 
water and some boys whowere there brought 
it in. The paint left in the can matches 
that on the horse; it is not exactly white.” 

“Well,” said Grafton,” it looks as 
though you had him there.” 

“Why of course, but what had we better 
do?” 

“Well, what’s wanted is first to make 
the parson’s loss good. I should say that 
if half a dozen should go to old man Bus- 
teed and put the case right at him, that he 
would get the preacher another horse.” 


CHAPTER XIII. — CARE AND COUNSEL. 

INCE the events recorded in the 
last chapter a year has passed 
Mr. Ellery was yet in Plainville. 
The clumsy effort made to disgrace him pro- 



V 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 49 


duced the opposite effect’ from what had 
been intended, and made every well or- 
dered inhabitant of the town his friend. 
And even Mr. Busteed, after the dis- 
closures implicating his son had been 
made public, was prevented from advo- 
cating his removal by the feeling that for 
the present, at least, his opposition must 
cease. 

As Grafton had proposed, a self-ap- 
pointed committee waited upon Mr. Bus- 
teed and told him plainly that in their 
opinion he ought to get the preacher an- 
other horse. Quite a stormy scene en- 
sued in which Busteed denied and scouted 
the evidence which they presented, but 
finally agreed to send Mr, Ellery’s horse 
to one of his farms at a distance, and to 
lend him another until such time as the 
ill-used beast should be fit to be seen in 
public. The change had been made by 
the committee at once, and although a 
year had passed no thought of the old 
horse’s return was expressed. 

Mary was home again, albeit the home 
had been removed. Changed somewhat 
she was, with added charms of mind and 
person and with it all an increase of that 
air of rapt abandonment of self to high 
living and thinking which so seldom comes 
to the young and lovel3^ but when given 
to comely form and winning ways, the 
world is assured that nature has set her 
seal upon a masterpiece whose living and 
breathing soul shall carry with it a lesson 
of sweetness, of light and of life. 

Grafton had struggled along as best he 
could. Since the time of the second mort- 
gage he had only looked forward to being 
able to make-some arrangement by which 
he might be able to receive for the farm 
some reasonable portion of what he consid- 
ered its value, over the amount of the 
mortgage. 

The knowledge that they were about to 
be obliged to leave their home weighed 
heavily upon Mrs. Grafton. She had been 
much attached to the farm; it was her 


home; withdrawn from the world, here she 
felt at ease. To lose the home was to be 
obliged again to begin an unequal struggle. 
If the\^ left the farm, life in town or village 
was a necessity, and with this she had 
been familiar in other years. Grafton 
cared little for appearances or for the 
thoughts of others; self centered, he de- 
pended upon his own opinion of himself; 
if his own conduct met the rather critical 
examination which he gave it, it mattered 
little to him what others might think. 
With his wife it was different; more sensi- 
tive naturalh’ she had also been more ex- 
posed to social slights, which although 
consisting only of a shrug of the shoulders, 
a drawing away of the skirts or a cool 
“looking over,” has for the sensitive 
and shrinking woman more terror than 
rough words and blows to men of nerve. 

During the past year she had brooded 
upon the change which she felt must come. 
The fear of coming want which is the 
motive power to much of the world’s activ- 
ity, which impels the hardy mariner to 
brave the dangers of the seas, which 
nerves the arm of the mechanic and speeds 
the steps of the plowman upon the windy 
plain, is also weighing upon the mind of 
the lonely woman in the farm house 
kitchen, as she wearily' makes her accus- 
tomed rounds, 

Mrs. Grafton’s health, never robust, be- 
gan gradually to fail. She had reached 
that age when the powers of life begin to 
wane. Depressed in mind by the neces- 
sities of their position, ' fearful of the 
future, her heart sank within her as she 
contemplated the coming on of age which 
in her mind’s eye was accompanied by de- 
privation and poverty. Mary had been to 
her both daughter and companion and 
upon the lofty spirit of her child she had 
gradually come to lean. For the future 
their lives were separated; she would not 
have it otherwise, it must be so. Mary 
must advance; how, she knew not; she 
took no counsel in this of flesh and blood, 


50 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


but the spiritual discernment of her mind 
had clearly apprehended the upward ten- 
dency of the thoughts of her gifted child. 
They would lead her into light. What her 
part in life might be none could tell, but 
as the wing of the bird is made for the 
upper air and the odor of the flower for 
the Summer breeze, so was it clear to her 
woman’s intuitive thought, that for Mary 
there was, there must be, a future which 
should take hold upon those higher and 
ennobling fields of mental vision which her 
life had failed to reach. She gloried in 
that “Looking Forward" which she felt she 
could not share and on which she could ex- 
ert no further influence. Struggle against 
the feeling as she would, the thought im- 
pressed itself upon her more and more, 
that her work in life was done. Her little 
son clung to her as though to his child-like 
and simple vision had been revealed the 
loss of that gentle spirit to whom he had 
never gone for love and sympathy in his 
childish troubles, without receiving that 
comfort and consolation, which to a child, 
is like to nothing short of the everlast- 
ing arms of the Father. Her husband 
strove to awaken anew the thoughts and 
hopes of younger and happier days. To 
his caresses she returned a mild and lan- 
guid recognition, but the work and the 
struggles of life had worn upon her phy- 
sical frame; failing health left its impress 
upon her and melancholy seemed to mark 
her for its own. As her family gathered 
about her, each intent upon her happiness, 
she exerted herself to appear pleased at 
every attention and satisfied with their 
presence but they could not rouse her from 
the mental condition which physical weak- 
ness had fastened upon her. When Mary 
sat by her side and held her hand she 
seemed supremely content, and at such 
times was manifested that wonderful and 
mysterious process of the mind by which 
there seems to take place a transfusion of 
spirit. With Mary’s hand in hers they 
were one again; one spirit possessed them, 


one thought animated them. The mother 
lived anew in her daughter. What she had 
dared in the bright dreams of youth her 
child should realize. In her weakness, 
time and physical strength fled away and 
the windows of the soul were opened. The 
universe was an open book before her, 
peace held her in its embrace and the 
white winged angels of glorious thought 
ascended and descended before her eyes. 

But these moments of exaltation were 
but temporary, pain called her back and 
then it was that no touch was like Mary’s, 
no soothing word like the murmured tones 
of her whom the gentle invalid curiously be- 
gan to regard as her other and perfected self. 

The family gradually began to see that 
in the gentle and unasserting mother, had 
existed almost unknown and unnoticed, an 
ambition and a hope for social success and 
the attainment of those pleasant surround- 
ings which so largely make up a woman’s 
world, which had continued to live and 
exert their influence, to be at last rudely 
dispelled by the loss of home, and in her 
eyes, all possible means of accomplishing 
the secret desire of her heart. 

To Grafton it was in the nature of a rev- 
elation; for himself he had not cared for 
wealth or the refinements of dress or 
fashion. That his wife had in her weak- 
ness betrayed the well concealed hopes of 
her life, for a well appointed and generous 
household, now shattered and destroyed 
by the loss of their home, which it was 
clear she had thought might afford at least 
the stepping stone to the realization of her 
hopes, was occasion for surprise and self 
reproach. Had he done all he could? 
Might he not have been able to obtain for 
her, what it now seemed she so much de- 
sired? But as he carefully scanned the 
record of the past he could not see that in 
aught he had failed; he had done what he 
could, if another could have done more it 
would be another who should be judged 
and not he himself. 

For the most of the year which was now 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


51 


past, he had continued to work the farm, 
but his wife’s failing health and his own 
discouragement had prevented his being 
very successful in its conduct. Towards 
the close of the year he had been able to 
exchange his claim upon the farm for a 
small house with a few acres of land in the 
outskirts of the village of Plainville and 
after selling a portion of his stock, had re- 
moved his family to the new home, where 
Mary had found them on her return from 
her second year in Topeka. As a teacher 
she had been eminently successful, and 
during the latter half of the year had been 
j eceiving a moderate compensation for her 
services. At the close, she had been given 
a handsome present by the McFarlands, 
the Institute being now in a flourishing 
condition, and had received an urgent re- 
quest to return at an increased salary for 
another year. And this had been her in- 
tention previous to her visit home. Her 
mother’s condition however forbade. She 
could not leave her; nor did she desire to 
do so. The education which she had re- 
ceived at home and in which she had 
schooled herself, included her own ad- 
vancement only as a means to an end. She 
desired to know, and to lift herself, that 
she might be able to assist in some way in 
the great work of life. How this was to 
be accomplished and in what way she 
should be able to serve, she had felt that 
she was 3'et too young to determine. The 
lesson, so seldom learned, that happiness 
is not grasped b}^ self-seeking; that it 
comes only to those who serve and never 
to those who desire to rule, she had in- 
stinctively grasped. She had not learned 
it. It came to her from a child, and the 
earliest and most grateful recollection of 
her youth had been that of denying her- 
self for the dear mother who now followed 
with wistful eyes her every step and 
motion. To be able to minister to her 
comfort was her chief pleasure. Of duty 
and the requirements of natural or re- 
ligious law she did not think. In service 


she found pleasure and if at any time she 
had failed in this, pain had been the result; 
this determined her conduct, she heeded 
no other law. 

What a transformer and miracle worker 
is love. Under its influence the rudest and 
most selfish take on the likeness of those 
high and holy beings which exist in imagina- 
tion, only in the realms of the blest. How 
every base passion and unworthy thought 
sinks in the presence of the object of its 
adoration. Could it exist with respect to 
all. Heaven would at once be reached and 
all sorrow flee away. Love conquers all 
and is the law of that true life which is to 
be. 

Since it became plain that he was to lose 
his home Grafton had given much thought 
to the cause which had involved himself 
and neighbors in what appeared to them 
an almost universal ruin. Many were los- 
ing their homes and all were finding their 
means of subsistence gradually slipping 
away from their control. His previous 
reading had enabled him to mentally grasp 
the principles and causes which he saw in 
operation around him, and he began an 
inquir3% which when he had reached a 
conclusion, ended only in a resolve to do 
what he could to make known certain evils 
and their causes, as the best and only 
means within his reach toward remedying 
the conditions which he felt sure were de- 
stroying the happiness of the great middle 
class to which he belonged. 

Among other means of information he 
sought the opinions of those in authority, 
as to the cause and means to be emplo3^ed 
in remedying the evils which all fair 
minded men began to acknowledge as 
existing. With Senator Bland he had a 
very slight acquaintance, but as he was a 
public servant, he felt that duty required 
him to answer questions of great public 
moment when called upon for his opinion. 
Accordingly he wrote the senator, asking 
for his opinion as to the course which the 
farmers and people of Kansas should 


52 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


pursue. He received the following let- 
ter: 

United States Senate, / 
Washington, D. C. f 

George Grafton Esq., 

Plainville, Kan. 

Dear Sir : — I have before me your favor of the — . 

While I have given very much thought to the ques- 
tion you suggest, I cannot go into it very deeply in the 
space of an ordinary letter, and in fact I would not 
undertake, even if I had ample time, to formulate a 
remedy for the present condition of things. No 
remedy can be devised which will bring relief to 
everybody. At the very best, a very considerable 
number of those who are heavily mortgaged must 
succumb. It is difficult to apportion the responsi- 
bility for the trouble. The contraction of the cur- 
rency which has been going on for the last three 
or four years especially, is responsible for part of it. 
This has had to do with the decline in values of 
farm products, notably in cattle, but the farmers 
themselves have powerfully contributed to the de- 
cline in the prices of farm products by their plan of 
raising only those things which were designed for a 
market away from home, and by the reliance upon 
outside sources for the things which they could have 
produced and many of which they did produce at 
home. 

Very few Kansas farmers raise their own bread, 
still fewer provide themselves with meat or fruit, 
while the seeds, the soap and a great number of 
minor things which twenty-five years ago were all 
produced at home, are now universally supplied 
from outside. The result is that the farmer not only 
is wholly dependent on outside markets for what he 
sells and also for what he buys, but he pays for the 
outward and inward transportation of articles which 
he ought to produce at home and on which he now 
pays a tax to the railroads and the middle men, 
which greatly diminishes his own profits, and in 
most cases, in fact, eats into his capital. The effect 
upon the price of what he raises is still worse be- 
cause as he insists on selling everything at Kansas 
City, Chicago and other distant markets, he puts the 
question of price more fully undei the control of 
those who purchase at those points. To all these 
things have been added high taxes, some extravagance 
in living, and in fact a general departure from those 
minor economies which have been the characteristic 
and the necessity, in fact, of the business of farming. 
It is impossible to go into this matter in detail with 
the time at hand, but you will readily see the object 
of my statement As I have before stated, no 
remedy can produce immediate effect. There must 
I think, be a complete reversal of the practices of 
which I have spoken. There must be a greater 
diversification of industry upon the farm. It is not 
going to be possible much longer to ship grain to 


Liverpool or to any point outside the United States. 
The further it is shipped the greater tax the farmer 
pays for his transportation, but there is a still more 
conclusive reason why the foreign market cannot be 
the reliance of the Kansas farmer. The wheat of 
India is already crowding us out of the Liverpool 
market. Large areas of virgin soil have been 
brought under cultivation in Africa and elsewhere, 
the product of which will come in competition with 
the wheat,corn and pork of theUnited States and I am 
quite sure that within five years India wheat will be 
selling in New York. The farmer, therefore, must 
raise those things which he can sell at home, the 
butter, eggs, cheese, fruit, vegetables and so on, and 
above all things he must live as nearly within himself 
as possible: that is to say, off of the productions of 
his own soil and thereby keep as nearly as possible 
out of that line of production which compels him to 
submit to the exactions of railroads and middlemen 
and makes him dependent upon the varying fortunes 
of speculation for market and for prices. 

I have written the foregoing somewhat hastily and 
no doubt crudely, but I hope there is enough in it. to 
put you on inquiry if you have not already given the 
subject thought, and I shall be glad to hear what you 
have to say in reply. I am very truly yours, 

Philip Bland. 

Grafton received the senator’s letter 
with another at Plainville and took them 
from the office just as he had vainly en- 
deavored to sell a few bushels of potatoes 
which he had taken to the stores for sale. 
He had taken only five bushels of extra 
fine ones and a few pounds of butter with 
quite a large basket of eggs. 

Mr. Baker would'take the eggs, he could 
ship them to Kansas City — if Grafton 
would take goods from his shelves in pay- 
ment — at eight cents per dozen. ' He really 
did not care for them and only took them 
as an accommodation to his customers. 
His only profit was in the goods for which 
they were to be exchanged. Butter he 
could not ship at any price, most of the 
villagers made their own; he did buy a 
little at from five to eight cents, but at 
present he was overstocked and would be 
glad to take four cents a pound from any 
one who would take all he had. Busteed. 
who happened into the store, bought a 
bushel of the potatoes, paying twenty-five 
cents for them, saying, that although he 
had plenty in his garden he would rather 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


buy a bushel than to dig them himself or 
hunt up any one else to do it for him 
tour bushels of the potatoes remained 
in the wagon; exchanging the eggs for 
groceries, which Grafton thought might be 
•useful, and taking the butter for which 
there was no sale he slowly drove back to 
his home. Putting his horses in the stable 
he sat down to read the senator’s letter. 
That he was disgusted our readers will 
readily believe. 

Having read it once through he again 
read it, this time carefully and critically. 

“At the very best a very considerable 
number must succumb” 

Yes, most farmers would, 

“Farmers had contributed to the result 
by raising only those things designed for 
market away from home,” 

But what could they sell at home? 

‘ ‘Very few Kansas farmers raise their own 
bread, meat and fruit.” 

What did the senator mean? Most raised 
all. 

‘ ‘The farmer insists on selling everything 
at Kansas City, Chicago and other distant 
markets.” 

But where else could he sell the beef, 
pork and grain which was all he could sell 
at all? 

No remedy but to cease producing the 
only things which could be sold, cease 
patronizing railroads and “live within 
himself.” ^ 

In that event what would become of the 
railways and of the thousands who depend 
upon them for bread? What of the towns- 
people who now depend upon the farmers’ 
traffic? Would they all starve together or 
go back to savagery? Either the senator 
was ignorant of a remedy or wished to 
quiet apprehensions until the time when 
most had “succumbed” and he and the 
hirelings who were fleecing the people 
were secure in the possession of their ill- 
gotten gains and their victims too weak to 
offer further opposition. 

Opening the other letter it proved to be 


from the editor of a widely circulated 
journal whose writings he had often ad- 
mired, It was as follows: 

Chicago, III., , 

Mr. Grafton,— 

My Dear Sir : — I thank you for the kindly and fra- 
ternal tone of your letter and I am pleased to be 
brought in personal relation with one so entirely in 
earnest as yourself. 

***♦**»!):♦ 

I believe with you that the farmers are destined to 
boss things ultimately; but before that happy time 
arrives we must turn a lot of mountains upside down. 
I never appreciated the magnitude of the task that 
confronts us as fully as I do to-day. The monopoly 
foe has as yet only wiggled its little finger, compara- 
tively speaking. It has not begun to show forth its 
tremendous resources, for there has been no call for 
them. It is on top and has the people by the neck. 
Just wait until demos begins to get turbulent and you 
will see monopoly’s mailed band come forth. We 
fellows who are on the watch towers, and see these 
things can however by no means seek a quiet place 
and wait for the storm to roll by. Our capacity to 
apprehend the work and peril only truly comes to us 
when we are enlisted for the war, and could not es- 
cape our duty if we would. We can see all the toil 
and danger that is before, but our mission has pos- 
sessed us and even the thought of shirking becomes 
impossible. We must march right along at the head 
of the column until we keel over for good, and our 
persistence in doing will be the same whether we 
close our eyes in victory or defeat, and know our 
fate beforehand, Yours very truly, 

Harrold Westover. 

CHAPTER XIV, — THOUGHTS AND WORDS. 

A S GRAFTON finished his reading of 
Westover’s letter it dropped from his 
hands. What a radical difference, 
thought he, is there in men. And who 
and what made them to differ? Was it 
not the ideal held up before the mind of 
each? Clearly the mind of Westover was 
not moved upon by the same influences 
which held the Senator’s attention. His 
thought took hold of the eternal and the 
invisible, of that which should endure of 
those great and glorious truths which in 
every age have moved men to count 
their own ease as naught and to find 
their chiefest pleasure in efforts for 
the good of the unthinking, the careless, 
and the unthankful. Paul endured as 
“seeing the invisible.” Yes, invisible to 


54 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


most, but not the less real. The Senator 
was only another man with a muck rake, 
his eyes were fixed upon the ground; he 
could not raise them; his ideal was there, 
mixed with the muck and filth of the floor, 
while just above his head glorious paint- 
ings and beautiful gems were all unnoticed. 
Why should it be so? The mental capacity 
of the Senator was as great, perhaps far 
greater than that of the other. Ah, ideals 
moved men — made them what they were. 
And to what were men indebted for their 
ideals? Did they make them for them- 
selves? God bless us, no. Any careful 
observer of childhood knew that the bent 
of the mind of youth was fixed in infancy; 
depended much upon the character of 
those who had preceded him “even to the 
third and fourth generation.” The potter 
had power of the clay. Had then the man 
no choice? Yes, but each must move 
within the lines marked out for him by the 
constitution pf his mind. No man could 
escape from himself. But did not circum- 
stance and surroundings make or unmake 
men? True, but who made circumstances 
and surroundings? Opportunity made 
heroes; no hero could exist without the 
opportunity for heroism was presented. 
Yes, but the latent hero existed and oppor- 
tunity only showed what had been created 
and prepared for the time of its appearing. 
Alas, in what a maze were we all envel- 
oped. One thing however, was clear, each 
man followed his ideal. Napoleon fol- 
lowed his “star” and never faltered until 
it faded from his sight. But how was it 
with common men? How was it with him- 
self? Ah, there difficulty began. One 
could not judge himself. Talk of the de- 
ceit practiced by man upon his fellow! It 
was as nothing to the self deception im- 
posed upon ourselves. But we could 
judge others; those about us. Aye, we 
were quite apt at that. What, then, were 
the ideals of common men? Westover’s 
ideal possessed him. Was it so with 
others? Did common men peril all for 


ideas? Surely they did, though most were 
unconscious of the motives which influ- 
enced them. How the soldier fought for 
his flag. True the flag was but a rag, but 
it represented an idea and the gory bodies 
of the slain represented the devotion of 
the common mind to ideas. The thought 
of gold and the power of wealth were but 
ideas, but did they not possess men com- 
pletely? Did not the common man peril 
all for gold? But the Senator and West- 
over were both thinking of men. Did not 
both appear to desire the good of their 
fellows? And why then did they so radi- 
cally differ? Was it not in this that the 
Senator subordinated man, his thoughts, 
his feelings, his aspirations and even his 
God given rights to the power of the Na- 
poleons of trade, the controllers of markets, 
and the combinations of capital? Were not 
these the men who, in his thought controlled 
their brother man and would control him? 

Were not these the powers which were 
superior, with him, to all the rights, hopes, 
and aspirations of common humanity? 
Did not his thought of the future bind men 
with the chains of trade, which were 
forged by other men, with whom he felt a 
stronger comradeship than with those 
whom he coolly subjected to the fate of 
mere tribute bearers? In the mind of the 
Senator was not capital and its combin- 
ations the master of man? In his thought 
Mammon reigned, and the power of God 
and the hope of humanity w’ere but fables 
for the dreamers. Kansas farmers must 
“succumb.” Mammon must rule, peace- 
ably if he could, forcibly if he must. Yes, 
that was true, the idea of the Senator sub- 
ordinated man to the power of organized 
greed. Labor was, with him a commodity 
to be bought and sold — and the laborer? 
Ah, he could “succumb.” 

Westover’s thought placed man above 
the power of capitalistic force; with him 
man was above money, humanity was first 
to be considered. With him there was yet 
a God in Israel. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


55 


The difference was radical. For him- 
self he knew which side he was on. Come 
what would, he would follow the one and 
oppose the other. 

Having thought out the problem Grafton 
rose from the seat in the stable where he 
had sat, in reading the letters, and went 
into the house. As he opened the door, 
Mary was sitting at the sewing table, some 
unfinished work was upon her lap, her 
head was resting upon the table in front, 
while Charlie stood at her side. As her 
father entered she raised her head and 
began to wipe her eyes with her handker- 
chief; evidently she had been weeping. 

*‘Is mother worse to-day?” said Grafton. 

“O, I don’t know that she is any worse,- 
but it is plain that she is no better,” said 
the daughter as the tears began again to 
flow, “she is sleeping now; the doctor was 
here a little while ago, but he says it’s of 
no use for him to come, that she doesn’t 
need medicine.” 

“When will mamma be well?” said 
Charlie, “it is so still in the house and 
sister can’t play with me and she’s been 
crying and I don’t want my mother sick,” 
and the little fellow began to sob, while 
Mary was endeavoring to calm herself 
that she might the more readily comfort 
the child. 

Grafton did not answer. Sitting down, 
he rested his elbows upon his knees and 
with his head in his hands abandoned him- 
self to the gloomiest reflections. 

Brushing away the tears Mary began 
tidying up the room; bringing a pail of 
cool water from the pump, she bathed her 
swollen eyes and proceeded to arrange for 
the evening meal. 

Heedless of what was going on around 
him Grafton still continued in the charac- 
teristic attitude of despair which he had 
assumed. His thoughts ran back to the 
days of youth. In the bright dreams of 
the future, which came to him then, he 
could detect no likeness to the sober reali- 
ties of the life he had lived. Was life only 


a struggle to end in nothing? Was hope 
only an ig7ius fatuus to lure us on? Was 
man born only to be cheated, or to cheat 
himself with vain hopes and idle illusions? 
One way there was out of the darkness. 
The ideal held up before the mind of the 
true man was a perfect one; it took hold 
on higher things. A spark from the in- 
finite Light possessed him. It was im- 
possible that he should be content with 
sordid and imperfect beings. Sordid and 
imperfect men might be content. » Human 
hogs might increase in fatness and grunt 
with satisfaction in their styes, but the 
life which should endure took no note of 
swill. To increase in knowledge one must 
be dissatisfied with ignorance. Intelligent 
discontent was the origin of all mental 
progress. Mind was necessary to a man, 
and the mind which grew must be fed. To 
a hog, swill was the chief concern. But 
the hog soon came to an end. 

“Father,” said Mary, “supper is ready.” 

Grafton roused himself from his reverie 
and mechanically the family gathered 
around the table. 

“Mother is sleeping yet and I thought 
it best net to wake her,” said the daughter. 

“I really do not care for anything to 
eat, but I suppose it is best to go through 
the motions at about the regular time,” 
said Grafton. “Charlie wants his supper, 
don’t you, boy?” 

Charlie made no audible reply. His 
mouth was full and he contented himself 
with replying by a nod of the head and a 
look of the eyes quite readily understood. 

Grafton and his daughter ate but little; 
occasionally a furtive glance was ex- 
changed, but very little was said. The 
mind of each was burdened by sorrowful 
thoughts of the wife and mother. What 
of her future? Would she recover and be 
to them as she had been? Was her mind 
to continue to wander? Had they, in fact, 
already lost the gentle soul whose smile 
and quiet word of approval outweighed in 
value the plaudits of all beside? They 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


5<3 

could not tell. Hope struggled with 
despair. Uncertainty weighed upon their 
minds and left them in the control of that 
cankering care which corrodes and rusts 
every material treasure possessed by 
man. 

The dishes had been cleared away. 
Mary was busy with her needle and still 
the invalid slept Grafton sat reading by 
the evening lamp when a knock was heard 
at the door. Mary opened and Mr. and 
Mrs. Ellery were seen standing without. 
A most cordial invitation to enter from 
both father and daughter being given, 
they were soon seated in the one “living 
room” of the little cottage. 

Mrs. Ellery’s first inquiry was for the 
invalid, and as Mary replied, explaining 
as well as she could her symptoms and the 
conaition of her mind, Mr. Ellery engaged 
Grafton in conversation, remarking that 
he had long intended and wished to call, 
but confessed that he scarcely knew what 
to say. His desire was to comfort and 
console, “but,” said he, “Mr. Grafton, you 
must take the will for' the deed.” 

“There is so much,” said Grafton, “that 
passes all understanding.” 

“One can understand that trials and 
troubles may bring a final reward in some 
cases, but how is it with my poor wife? Is 
her life, which was always so careful and 
conscientious, now to end in a mere blank? 
Is it to be a struggle ending in nothing? 

“Even at the worst, my friend,” said the 
preacher, “you must remember your chil- 
dren are to live. You cannot say that your 
lives are without fruit which gives no 
promise for the future.” 

“Ah, well,” said Grafton,” that simply 
carries the struggle along. Another 
youth of promise may end in defeat as hers 
seems to have done.” 

“All roads, Mr. Grafton, lead to the end 
of the world, and considered without rela- 
tion to what may take place beyond, no 
transaction of this, is fully explainable. 
But with a future existence in view, which 


shall be a continuation of this, all is clear 
Doubt is removed only by action. For 
every man there is a duty. He cannot 
know all reasons and understand all 
mysteries. Whatever appears to a man to 
be truth, that he must follow or be con- 
demned. But he must follow. Conviction 
must be converted into conduct. Action 
must result, and if action square with his 
highest conception of truth all will be 
well. Of one thing I would, if I could, 
convince every man, and that is, that the 
Great Power which controls the forces of 
nature is friendly and favorable to man.” 

While Mr. Ellery continued talking, the 
ladies adjourned to the little bedroom 
which opened out of the room in which 
they sat. Mrs. Grafton was now awake; 
she knew Mrs. Ellery and spoke pleasantly 
to her. 

“Where is Charlie?” said she. 

“I put him to bed long ago, mother,” 
said Mary. 

“He was crying a while ago, I heard 
him just as I went to sleep and he wanted 
me. Poor dear, I fear he will do without 
me soon; Mar}’ you will not leave him, will 
you?” 

“Ah, mother,” said Mary, “you must not 
talk of leaving us. If you would only 
think so, you could recover and bring hap- 
piness to us all,” 

“Do you not think,” said Mrs. Ellery, 
“that it is your duty to try to get well?” 

“No, I’ve struggled all my life, I have 
done what I could, I am tired and weary. 
Rest; rest, I must rest.” 

Mary was unwearied in her attentions 
and Mrs. Ellery assisted her as well as she 
could, but the invalid relapsed into a som- 
nolent condition, but half awake, and an- 
swered their further inquiries with only a 
monosyllable now and then. After a short 
interval Mrs. Ellery rose and with her hus- 
band took leave of the sorrowing house- 
hold. 

“Grafton,” said Mr. Ellery, as he took 
his hand in parting, “if there is anything 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


57 


I can assist you in, you will let me know, 
won’t you?" 

As time passed on the organization of 
farmers throughout the State gradually 
made progress. In the vicinity of Plain- 
ville most had been included. Grafton had 
been afnong the first to join the movement 
and had become prominent as an organizer 
and lecturer. 

In moments of alarm or surprise, men in 
common with all animated nature, are 
wont to gather themselves together. This 
arises from an instinct of that self-preser- 
vation which is said to be the first law of 
nature. That in union there is strength 
seems to be a fixed principle in nature; and 
men, as well as silly sheep, own its power. 
And in this they are right, for seldom, if 
ever, does the wolf attack the flock, but 
contents himself with picking off the 
straggler. 

Grafton had early seen that although the 
banding together of men alike interested 
in securing freedom from the encroach- 
ments of power was of itself a favorable 
sign, it was still only a sign, and that in 
order to the full success of the movement 
with which he was connected it was essen- 
tial that the whole body should become 
unified and fully convinced regarding a 
policy which should be pursued. Lacking 
this and wanting a common line of action 
the power of their organization would be 
frittered away and lost, while if concen- 
trated upon a policy agreed upon, and 
steadily and persistently supported, would 
surely end in placing full power to right 
their wrongs, in their own hands. He had 
seen that the history of organizations 
showed that they had always been maligned 
and misrepresented in the beginning, 
which had little effect except to increase 
the number of adherents. But that after 
numbers had been secured, open opposi- 
tion ceased, and false hearted words of 
praise took its place and the work of insid- 
ious division began. Then it was that 
men who should have been united were 


made to quarrel and separate by the intro- 
duction of jealousies and prejudices in no 
wise connected with the main objects of 
association. 

In his lectures to the Alliance, Grafton 
had made a special point of the power of 
the State as a means of securing the re- 
forms which the farmers desired. Most 
had looked to the general government as 
the power which must be invoked, but 
Grafton pointed out the difficulty of secur- 
ing the necessary majorities in a govern- 
ment representing so great an extent of 
country, so many, and varied interests and 
also the fact that by the close balancing of 
power secured by the wily politicians, that 
the large cities possessed this balance and 
that their purchasable vote would most cer- 
tainly be cast against them. On account 
of these and other reasons he showed the 
immense difficulty of securing radical re- 
form beginning with the general govern- 
ment. 

In a State like Kansas, however, peopled 
by farmers and dominated by the agricul- 
tural interest, with no large city within its 
borders, he showed that concert of action 
among the farmers would necessarily re- 
sult in gaining at once the full control of 
affairs. They constituted a majority of 
the inhabitants of the State and if united 
in their demands could at once secure 
whatever they demanded. Nothing but a 
division in their ranks could prevent this 
and this would undoubtedly be the only 
means used by the opposition to defeat 
them. 

The following summary of his views is 
taken from the manuscript notes of one of 
his addresses. 


A friend of mine, an old Kansan, but 
born and reared in the Keystone State, 
visited the home of his boyhood, in Penn- 
sylvania, last Summer. Meeting a former 
playmate, now a wealthy man and pro- 
prietor of half the little town, he said to 
him: 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


58 

“You are in the banking and loaning 
business you tell me; what rates do you ob- 
tain for money here?” 

“Well,” said the capitalist, “we loan 
money at low rates; on real estate security 
at very low rates; I have known of much 
money being loaned at four per cent, fact 
is I have loaned at that myself, when every- 
thing was all right.” 

“But,” said the Kansan, “why don’t 
you come out to Kansas where you could 
get two or three times as much interest? 

Our farmers in county pay a nominal 

rate of eight to ten per cent, but when their 
commissions and rebates are all footed up 
it is often from twelve to sixteen that thej' 
really pay.” 

Relating this to me the Kansan said: 
“My friend would make me no answer, 
but instead said; ‘Take a ride with me 
this afternoon, I want to show you my 
new fast stepper and we will take a spin 
out among the farms.’ In due time my 
old schoolmate drove up to the house 
where I was stopping, in a splendid ‘rig,’ 
with a horse which even Bonner might ad- 
mire. Seating myself beside him we were 
soon among the highly cultivated fields of 

county. Driving along the ‘ridge’ 

road, he stopped for a moment that we 
might admire the scenery. Spread out in 
the sunlight, below and upon our light 
was a glorious sight, an ‘intervale’ farm 
in the highest state of cultivation. Clean- 
kept fields, divided by straight lines of 
well-built stone walls, some of them being 
whitewashed, that by the contrast of green 
fields and white fences the beauty of the 
scene might be enhanced Blooded cattle 
of beautiful proportions cropped the rich 
grass in one of t!;e enclosures. A well 
built mansion embowered in trees and 
shrubbery was upon one side and near by, 
the enormous ‘ bank barn, ’ built of stone 
in the most substantial manner, added its 
solidity and air of stability and prosperity 
to the view. 

“ ‘There,’ said my old schoolmate, ‘ain’t 


that a pretty sight, can you beat that in 
Kansas?” 

“I was obliged to confess that we could 
not. ‘But,' said I, 'who owns this farm?’ 

“ ‘This morning,’ said he, ‘I did not an- 
swer your question, and I have brought 
you here to emphasize what I say. You 

remember Jim , son of old , 

the big farmer of bygone years?’ I 
nodded, and he went on: ‘Well Jim mar- 
ried Nancy , a fine buxom girl, and 

his father gave him this farm as his patri- 
mony and started him out in life. They 
seemed to be as happy as larks for a time; 
finally Nancy fell sick and there was a 
year or two of poor crops. Jim ‘got be- 
hind' and came to me for a loan, and to 
make a long stoi y short, I let him have 
$1,000, twenty-three years ago, at four per 
cent. This amount was afterwards added 
to at the same rate and to cut the story 
short. I’ll just tell you that now after 
twenty-three years of a struggle, Jim and 
Nancy are out in Chautauqua county, 
Kansas, with a houseful of children try- 
ing to make a new start. I own the farm; 
Jim just left it — abandoned it — I did not 
foreclose on him — but he just couldn’t pay 
and had to go.’ 

“Now you see the reason why I don’t 
care to go to Kansas to loan money at 
higher rates. I can get the land at four per 
cent, but I don’t want it. It won’t pay the 
cost of the farmer’s living in any decent 
fashion and four per cent beside, and there 
are no better farms in America than these. 
I own more of them, I wish I didn’t, and so 
I surely don’t want Kansas mortgages. It 
is a dead sure thing at the rates you men- 
tion, but I have my notions and don’t care 
to invest.” 

Debt and the payment ot interest is the 
main reason of the increasing wealth of 
the rich and the growing poverty of the 
poor. Laws regarding the rate of interest 
are quickly nullified by the necessities of 
the borrower, and the avarice of the lender 
and the only final and radical cure of the 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


59 


trouble which now threatens our civiliza- 
tion is the abolition of debt And this is 
not only possible but easily arrived at 
whenever the people are sufficiently 
arous'ed to take an active part in secur- 
ing so desirable a reform. 

One half of the trap into which the peo- 
ple of Kansas have fallen is provided by 
Wall street but the other side is furnished 
by the laws of Kansas and whenever the 
debt cursed people of Kansas get up 
spirit enough to hold their side level, then 
the “jaws” will fail to come together and 
the machine will be out of joint. 

Then Congress will discover for the first 
time that something must be done and they 
never will move in our behalf until this is 
done. Mark that. 

Let a Legislature be elected with sand 
enough to pass a stay law and also to 
abrogate all laws for the collection of 
debts to be incurred in the future and 
the beginning of the end will be at hand, 
but unless this can be done the machine 
for the manufacture of paupers will con- 
tinue to grind out an ever increasing 
suppl}’. 

Many plans of relief are presented 
nearly all of which are based upon the 
action oi Congress, but years of entire 
inaction regarding the true interests of 
the producing classes with hundreds 
upon hundreds of enactments for the 
benefit of the people’s enemies, testify 
to the willingness of Congress to injure 
and oppress and its entire forgetful- 
ness of the rights and privileges of the 
great plain people. All who are willing to 
open their eyes are well aware that our 
Congress is the mere creature of the mon- 
opolists, who by their control of purchas- 
able votes in our large cities, can and do 
laugh in their sleeves at the efforts of the 
“grangers” to retrieve their waning for- 
tunes. Those “plans” which depend en- 
tirely upon congressional action for relief 
are at present inoperative, for the good 
and sufficient reason that congress, as at 


present organized, instead of affording re- 
lief, will probably, at the command of its 
Wall Street masters, inflict still greater 
injuries upon the farming interest. And 
even though a congress, to be elected in 
the future should be willing to consider 
the wrongs which are so grievous and 
hard to be borne, it must be remembered 
that that election is still far in the future 
and the seating of the men elected a year 
beyond even that. Meantime every pos- 
sible effort will be made by the politicians 
to control and delay, browbeat, cajole and 
deceive the people. Men whose memories 
run back for only a dozen years will not 
forget that the politicians of both the great 
parties, in the west, “whereased” and re- 
solved as strongly against national banks 
and monopolies as it was possible for them 
to do. By these means they gained con- 
trol of that reformatory movement and 
traitorously strangled it. In like manner 
they propose to “fool the grangers” again. 

Their leaders laugh at the power of the 
people and repeat slyly among themselves 
to-day, as they did twelve years ago: “In- 
telligence ever has and ever will rule 
stupidity.” 

They expect to repeat the doings of the 
past and if given an opportunity will 
surely succeed in their designs. Mean- 
time the only reliance of the farmer should 
be upon himself and his vote and until he 
is willing to exert himself, by the passage 
of such laws in his own State as will bring 
him temporary relief, he will be despised 
and contemptuously regarded by the 
powers that reign in Wall Street and at 
Washington, And if he will not help him- 
self and dares not undertake radical action 
on his own behalf “the powers that be” 
are right in their treatment of him, for in 
that event he is a despicable creature and 
less than man. 

Debt is what is ruining us; more money 
is being paid as interest on money than 
all the surplus crops of the State are sell- 
ing for. The result is certain ruin. 


6o 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


What happens to the man or the commun- 
ity that pays out more than is received? 
Is it not a clear case that the community 
doing this must “succumb?” And the time 
is but short. This year this one is sold 
ouc; the next another, and in a few years 
all who depend upon the soil will have 
been forced to • abandon their homes by as 
heartless a power as ever peeped with 
blood-shot eyes over the battlements of 
hell. The State passes laws against lot- 
teries, which take only a few dollars here 
and there from willing hands, but it forces 
by all the power at its command a tribute 
of millions, reducing our people to abject 
beggary and in this game, as at present 
conducted, we have no chance to win. 
When a man has been forced by the com- 
binations about him to mortgage his farm, 
it is his no more. The mortgage is a con- 
ditional sale. Read it and see. And little 
time soon takes away the pretense that 
the transfer is not final. Here and there 
a man ma}* pay off a mortgage; here and 
tnere a man may draw a prize, but in 
general the one is as rare as the other. The 
Louisiana lottery has a long list of its 
beneficiaries. In the large, and taken as a 
whole, the people have no chance to pay 
their debts, for the same grasping power 
which has them by the throat has also by 
increasing the value of money decreased 
the price of the crops with which they are 
alone able to liquidate the demands upon 
them. From this condition of affairs the 
farmers of the West demand relief, and 
they demand it now. They cannot wait a 
long term of years for a gradual change; 
their necessities demand action at once. 
They wish to pay all they owe. They do 
not desire to defraud. But they must have 
time to make the best use of the materials 
in their hands. They must not be hounded 
into a forced sale of the results of years of 
toil at the demand of heartless holders of 
bonds and mortgages. 

Let the farmers agree upon their de- 
mands and plans; let them be discussed in 


the Alliance, duly formulated and printed. 
Let each candidate for the legislature and 
for all State offices be requested by a,duly 
constituted committee from the Alliance, 
in each county, to sign a written promise, 
to be retained by the Alliance, promising 
under oath if need be, to support and de- 
fend the demands of the farmers. Then in 
each county let the solid vote of the far- 
mers be cast for the candidates selected by 
the Alliance as most likely to serve the 
farmer’s purpose best. When the legisla- 
ture thus elected meets, let the Alliance 
send a powerful committee to attend its 
session. Let them see that promises are 
kept, or drag the liars from their seats. 

The power of the legislature thus 
elected, and composed of men having half 
the spirit of the old continental Congress, 
would be able to make amends in due time 
for the errors of the past. Other States 
would quickly follow our example; indeed 
under the direction of the Alliance the 
same plans could be and would be, set in 
motion in half a dozen States at once. Let 
a stay law be passed, stopping the col- 
lection of debts, as has been done at differ- 
ent times in several of the States of the 
Union. 

It is idle to say to Shylock, as was said 
by the debtor of old, “Have mercy upon 
me and I will pay thee all;” he knows 
nothing of mercy, he knows only of busi- 
ness, under which name he is ready to cru- 
cify every high and holy feeling, every de- 
mand of mercy, and all the pleadings of 
love and justice. Let us say rather to 
him: “You shall not carry out your scheme 
and take from this man his farm without 
giving the holder opportunity to redeem 
it. You shall not consign these helpless 
women and children to a life of poverty 
and shame, that the greed of foreign and 
Eastern money lenders may be satisfied 
with the life blood of innocence. Your 
claim shall be paid but you shall not close 
your victims out at forced sale. 

Pass a stay law, then the drain of inter- 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


6i 


est money would be stopped. Money re- 
ceived for crops would circulate at home, 
business would be brought down to a cash 
basis at once. Merchants would be the 
first to thrive and a solid base be reached. 
The business of money loaners and lawyers 
alone would suffer. Very good, let us turn 
the thing around for a time, the whole peo- 
ple have suffered for their benefit long 
enough. Repeal all laws for the collection 
of debts incurred in the future. This 
would spoil the lawyer’s trade. Very 
good, they have lived upon spoil; give 
them some of their own medicine. Busi- 
ness would then come down to a cash ba- 
sis. Debt would be eliminated from the 
social fabric, and with debt would go 
the cause of modern slavery. Shaks- 
peare is good authority among cultivated 
men for the use of language and he de- 
clares that the debtor is a slave. The 
modern slave is made what he is by debt. 
Solomon said many centuries ago, “the 
borrower is the servant of the lender." 
Let us abolish service by doing away with 
the power of the master. Horace Greeley 
said years ago that there was no more rea- 
son, in real justice, why a man should 
have his credits, and the result of his over- 
reachings collected by force for him, by 
the law, than there was for him to require 
the sheriff to black his boots. 

Pass such laws in one State and the 
money devil would be alarmed and begin 
to make concessions. Pass them in a half 
a dozen and he would know that the time 
of the redemption of humanity from 
modern slavery drew nigh. Pass such 
laws and as business came to a cash basis 
and credit was done away, a demand would 
arise for the circulation of more money. 
Let the legislature demand that our sena- 
tors advocate the issue of money direct to 
the people and without the intervention of 
banks. If they refused, declare their 
places vacant and order them home for 
trial. Indict and punish them. Put a 
stop to political shilly shallying. Elect 


new senators; send them to Washington. 
Their voices would be heard. Let a half 
dozen States agree upon this course and 
the end of class rule would come. The 
majority would r ule and the little circles 
who profit by the injustice and crime of 
the present would be relegated to that sub- 
ordinate position to which Christianity 
consigns them. Immense difficulties must 
be encountered before this programme can 
be carried out. The power of money and 
of the press, the power of the church and 
the rostrum will largely be against you, 
but with you is the great power of 
the everlasting God of justice and of 
right. “They that be with us, be more 
than they that be against us." In other 
directions, not here mentioned, the 
power of the State acting within the 
law could be used to enforce the de- 
mands which are necessary to the pe- 
cuniary well being of ninety-nine out of 
every hundred bona fide residents of Kan- 
sas. Because they could not combine, 
four millions of blacks were held in chattel 
slavery. We have been wont to say that 
white men would not have been thus con- 
trolled. We have no occasion to boast of 
our superiority over the blacks while one 
in a hundred, by the power of money, 
controls us. Lack of combination among 
the blacks kept them in slavery as it will 
white men. Combine then, come together, 
and pledge to each other as your fathers 
did “your lives, your fortunes and your 
sacred honor." You will be denounced as 
revolutionists. Were not they? Is it not 
their proud distinction that they were rev- 
olutionary? Have you forgotten that 
Washington was a rebel? that every mem- 
ber of the Continental Congress was guilty 
of treason, if judged by British law. But 
for you the overt act is not necessary, keep 
within the law, do injustice to no man or 
class. Pay every debt and fulfill every 
contract, remembering that they who cry 
for justice must do no wrong. But do not 
be deceived, the new revolution is for the 


62 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


abolition of debt. Old debts must be paid, 
but the law must set its face against the 
formation of new ones. Whoever sells 
property or loans money in the future let 
him do it at his own risk. The law should 
not guarantee his business to be profitable 
any more than the State should make the 
cornfield or the potato patch of the farmer 
sure to yield a certain number of bushels. 
Let every transaction be finished at the 
time of its completion. Abolish debt, 
and pay cash, in every deal. The gov- 
ernment can readily furnish the currency 
to do this and only refrains from it now, 
at the bidding of those who secure slaves 
by the creation of debt. We do not need 
new laws so much as a repeal of those con- 
ferring privilege. Take away from the 
trade of the money grabber and debt 
maker the power of the sheriff and the 
court or else furnish to the farmer a j!>c?ss^ 
comitaius with sufi&cient power to secure 
the growth of corn for three hundred and 
sixty-five days in the year and a stated 
price at the end of that time from the 
buyer under penalty of loss of goods and 
confiscation of property in case of failure. 

Who is most worthy of the. protection 
of the law, the producer of wealth or him 
who seeks to obtain by shrewdness what 
others have painfully toiled to grow? 

Debt and the payment of interest in our 
modern world make the master and make 
the slave. This is the great power which 
threatens humanity and which must be 
slain. 

In the new abolition the power of the 
State government will be the lever which 
shall lift us from the slough of despond. 
Local self government is the distinctive 
feature of our republic. But for this, the 
war of the rebellion would have ended 
upon this continent. No conquered people 
were ever before reduced to subjection 
without an enormous standing army was 
continued as a guard. Generation after 
generation but added fuel to the flame. 
Poland still threatens. After centuries of 


government by the sword, Ireland still 
longs for revenge. If at the close of our 
war the States of the South had been 
abolished and the country held as con- 
quered territory, as was proposed, a mill- 
ion of men would still be in arms to 
keep it in subjection. Grown familiar 
with the control of the General, military 
despotism would soon have swallowed all. 

But with the power of the State in their 
hands, eleven miniature republics, self- 
governed and self-respecting, at once arose 
in the South and satisfied the natural de- 
mand of freemen for self-control. Now, 
a foreign war would show them as loyal t 
to the nation as the States of the North. 

The State governments saved our form 
of government in that crisis and will do it 
again in another. They form the power 
which would prevent the successful seizure 
of the national government by an ambitious 
tyrant. Their very diversity of interests 
form an additional security. Each is a min- 
iature nation in embryo, full formed and 
ready to be born. 

Kansas, under the guidance of men of 
nerve, such as her early history knew, 
men like Jim Lane and Ossawattomie 
Brown, can and will take the lead in a new 
abolition — the abolition of debt. 

The great danger of the present is that 
reformers may compromise the true prin- 
ciples of action. An increase in the 
amount of money in circulation would re- 
lieve for a time the overburdened people, 
but in a few years, if debt, the cause of all 
our woes, is allowed to live and breed, the 
earth will be covered with a swarming 
brood of paupers, spawned from the hatch- 
eries of usury. 

Debt is the cause and the excuse of usury 
and usurers. Kill the dragon which con- 
tinually sows among men the seeds of 
avarice, hate, crime, disease and death. 
Destroy at one blow the source of inequal- 
ity — usury — accursed of God and all good 
men. Away with it and man will be freed 
from the yoke of bondage. To destroy 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


usury kill the beast which daily, hourl}'^ 
and momently is bringing it forth from its 
hated womb. Prevent the possibility of 
debt and the mother of usury is dead and 
she who alone can bring it forth will be no 
more. 


CHAPTER XV. — SORROW. 

L ife at the Grafton cottage had lost 
its charm. Charlie was fretful and 
querulous at times, apparently with- 
out cause. He wanted this or that — until 
he got it — and was contented with nothing 
long. Sister must help him find the ball 
which he had lost, or assist in his game of 
marbles, and unwearied as she was in his 
behalf, when not attending upon her 
^mother’s wa..ts or engaged in the daily round 
of household cares, which now absorbed 
much of her time, yet it seemed impossible 
for him to be the contented, happy child 
of the past. That his mother was ill was 
occasion for sorrow with him, when in her 
presence, but grown familiar with her ab- 
sence from the kitchen, where her waking 
hours had mostly been spent, he soon for- 
got it all, or so it seemed, and yet he was 
^unhappy, why he could not tell. 

Whoever has seen a fretful, crying in- 
fant, in its overtaxed and discouraged 
mother’s arms, taken from her who should 
have been its chief joy and source of com- 
fort, by the possessor of even tempered, 
vigorous health, and seen the quivering 
lip, the fretful sob and the injured air of 
the child quickly disappear and give place 
to the happy chuckle and the exultant 
crow, can well believe that little mortals, 
at least, are dependent upon the mental 
states of those with whom they are asso- 
ciated. And are we not taught by the oc- 
currences of our every day life, that children 
of a larger growth and maturer years are 
even more dependent upon those with whom 
they come in contact for the color of their 
thoughts? Who has not seen the harsh 
and tyranous severity of a father poison 
the air of every nook and cranny of the 


63 

household? And does not the circle of joy 
or sorrow spread throughout the domain of 
mind? 

The beat of a drum sets in motion the 
waves of air which carry to every ear in 
the village the tidings that a certain piece 
of leather has been struck. It is as noth- 
ing, a trifle, a mere circumstance, and yet 
the impact of the wood upon the stretched 
hide has made its impression upon the in- 
telligence of every soul in the town. 
Science convinces us ol the impossibility 
of loss in the material world. Matter may 
be changed in form, disappear in invisible 
gases, to return in other forms and 
shapes, but it is not lost; it cannot escape 
the control of that vast intelligence which 
governs us all. Mind surely controls mat- 
ter. In our modern world the mind of 
civilized man has almost completed the 
conquest of the physical earth, and in the 
conflict which has been and is being waged 
for control, mind is certain of ultimate vic- 
tory. The greater force prevails. 

In the physical world the science of our 
time has shown the relationship existing 
between the powers of earth and air; light, 
heat and motion are but one force upon 
which depend all the manifestations of 
nature’s varied show. Do not analogy, the 
occurrences of life and the facts of our ex- 
perience also show the continuity of 
thought? Is not the brotherhood of man 
assured? Separated though they may be 
by the animosities gendered by the jarring 
wants and jealousies of an animal exist- 
ence, does not the heart of man beat re- 
sponsive to the call of a better and a higher 
nature? The sight of human agony melts 
the stoniest heart. Who did not wish to 
assist the victim of Johnstown or Chicago? 
And as surely as the drum beat sets in 
motion the waves of air, so surely does 
thought impress itself upon the world of 
mind. Men have a common origin and 
their souls are but One. 

Some are deaf and cannot hear, some are 
blind and cannot see, and some have lost 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


64 

the feeling of kinship which allies them to 
the race, and as the blind and deaf are 
shut out from the pleasures of life so they 
who have repudiated the bond of brother- 
hood, are, while this continues, shut out 
from communion with those higher powers 
which shall alone endure. 

Mrs. Grafton had gradually become 
weaker and still weaker, as time passed on. 
She did not complain, but had apparently 
abandoned all hopes of relief at mortal 
hands. At times her mind wandered and 
the poor, tired, discouraged woman, be- 
came again, in thought, a little child. 
Again she trod the joyous paths of youth, 
wandered beside the running brook her 
childhood knew and gathered the flowers 
which in imagination she saw Seated 
about her bed, although heart broken in 
their anguish, Grafton and his daughter 
were forced to join in thought with her. 

“Ah there is such a beauty; Mary help 
me to get it, it is there near you." 

“Here mother, it is,” said Mary, and al- 
though the hand which touched her 
mother’s contained no visible thing the 
want of the moment was filled. 

“See, isn’t it lovely; look at the beauti- 
ful colors; ah how nice to be here." 

As the thin wan face of the rapidly 
aging woman was lighted up by what 
should have been a smile, but which only 
served to show the distraction of a mind 
diseased, bitter tears filled the eyes of the 
beholders. But she saw them not. Occu- 
pied with the conceit, her mind took no 
note of things as they were; she only saw 
what her disordered brain bade her ob- 
serve. Suddenly, perhaps, the scene with 
her would change and hysterical tears flow 
from' unnatural eyes. For the moment 
nothing could allay her fears. Then as sud- 
denly as it came the paroxysm would depart, 
to be followed by a new fancy which her 
family were called upon to share. During 
these trying times there was no relief to 
the anxious watchers. Her eyes con- 
stantly stared with a dreadful look which 


did not change. Whether distressed by 
fear or overcome with simulated joy, the 
eyes which so long had shone with the 
mild radiance of approval and love, now 
glared with a light from which reason had 
departed. The joyless hours flew wearily 
by. Day was as night and night as day. 
Wearied at last, nature gave up the con- 
test and sleep came to quell for a time the 
anxieties of the family. These terrible 
scenes left the afflicted soul each time 
weaker than before. Succeeded as they 
were by seasons of comparative rest and 
quiet, which yet brought no hope, no ray 
of returning comfort to the invalid, she 
gradually sank and came nearer and 
nearer to the end of the life to which she 
did not cling and for which she had 
ceased to care. 

The doctor came occasionally and talked 
learnedly of anaemia and of hysterical con- 
ditions. He brought in consultation a 
brother physician from Branchton, who 
advised that upon the return of the par- 
oxysms, large doses of opium be admin- 
istered, or if this should fail, that chloro- 
form be used to quiet the sufferer; but 
neither Grafton nor his daughter would 
listen to this. They would not, they could 
not hear 'to the thought of thus destroy- 
ing sensation in the being they loved so 
well. 

“She is not violent," said Mary, “and 
I will not do otherwise than I know she 
would wish me to do. I know she would 
not approve, and I cannot give my con- 
sent." 

Mr. and Mrs, Ellery, as well as other 
friends, were constant in their efforts for 
the sufferer. But there was little to be 
done, except to sit and watch at the bed- 
side of her who was gradually fading 
away. Generally she was quiet and 
rational and for the most part complained 
only of weariness. Death she longed for, 
and spoke only' of it as a relie She 
would soon be at rest. The weakness of 
the body had infected the mind; she cared 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


little for anything. Her life, she felt, had 
been lived. For herself she no longer 
participated in the thoughts of those about 
her. But for her child the mother-heart 
within her still welled up with entreaty 
and prayer for her boy. “God pity him 
he will be so lonely without me!” Calmly 
she spoke of her rapidly approaching 
death and urged again and again that 
Mary would remember the charge she left 
with her. 

“He will need a mother, Mary,” said she; 
“and you must be one to him.” 

“You have been a good daughter, Mary, 
you never failed me; I know you will not 
in this. And your father, Mary; he will 
need your care; our home has been happy. 
He will miss me and sorrow in silence. Be 
a true woman, Mary, and I feel sure that 
somewhere and somehow we shall all be 
again united. Kiss me, daughter.” 

With streaming eyes and heaving breast 
the daughter clasped the worn and wasted 
form of the dear mother to her heart. 

Again and again was this repeated and 
still she remained with them. Nature still 
refused to loose the silver cord. As she 
gradually became weaker the paroxysms 
also were less and less violent. Often had 
Grafton and his daughter prayed with 
tearful earnestness that she might die, if 
die she must, in peace, with all her powers 
of mind unimpaired and in possession at 
the last of those faculties which had so en- 
deared her to them. 

The turn of the tide came at last. The 
violence of her disease had finally expended 
its force. Though so worn and wasted as 
to bring the bitterest tears to the eyes of 
her husband, who so well remembered the 
light-hearted and beautiful girl, who years 
before had trustingly given her hand to 
him, she yet was sane. The eyes which 
looked lovingly into his were the same 
which had answered to his glance through 
all the years of his pilgrimage. 

Hope suddenly filled his heart. She 
would now recover. Life had still a 


65 

charm for him. In the twinkling of an 
eye his thought had taken in the prospect 
of future years. He would slave for her, 
if need be; she should not be denied the 
advantages which he felt so lovely and 
gentle a soul had earned of right. For 
her he would dare any and all things. 
How precious she seemed. And as he bent 
over her their lips met in an ecstasy of 
love. 

“George,” said she, feebly, “I am going 
to leave you. You have been a good hus- 
band to me — 3'ou never deceived me — you 

— you always loved me God bless and 

keep you.” 

He would have interrupted her with 
gentle remonstrance, but suddenl}^ the un- 
welcome truth was forced upon his mind, 
struck his new found joy ruthlessly to 
earth and pressed the chalice of bitter des- 
pair to his lips. 

“Call Mary,” feebly said the djung 

woman “I feel — as though — I should 

faint.” 

Mary had been gone but a moment, she 
was in the adjoining room. Grafton hur- 
riedly called her; she came at once. The 
mother looked lovingly" at her; essayed to 
lift her hand for a last farewell; the light 
of life departed from her eyes, the dear 
head fell wearily, and she was dead. 

Evil and its influence finally perishes, or 
in the alchemy of nature, is turned into 
good. The foulest deed of injustice, if re- 
membered, becomes in time only a guide 
post, warning the later traveler of the pit- 
falls which must be shunned by him who 
would not sink to ruin. Hatred of wrong, 
so near akin to love of good, is thus im- 
planted in the heart of man. Judas, who 
betrayed his Friend with a kiss, by the 
very detestableness of his example, helps 
men who may be tempted to follow in his 
footsteps. 

But good endures. With a never fading 
luster it shines as the beacon-fire of vic- 
tory upon the hilltops of imagination. The 


66 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


first good act of recorded history still in- 
vites men and urges them up and on. And 
the quiet lives and unseen acts which alone 
made that act possible each and all have 
played their parts and will serve the ages 
yet unborn. 

Thus every unselfish life becomes the 
lasting heritage of the race. 


CHAPTER XVI. — GRIEF. 

W ORDS cannot picture the agony 
and distress which overwhelmed 
the minds of George Grafton 
and his daughter at the loss of wife and 
mother. The thought of her death had 
been terrible; it was a spectre which of 
late had been a constant guest at their 
home, but the realization of the worst 
left them with nothing to oppose save 
the blackness of darkness which now 
shrouded their every thought. The spec- 
tre of coming evil is still a spectre; it 
may be ‘escaped; it is not fully compre- 
hended, and like a terrible dream its in- 
fluence may be shaken off, in part, by the 
resolute, but bereavement and the ruth- 
lessness of death strike the afflicted with a 
chilling force against which no resolution 
of the mind or argument of the intellect 
can avail. 

Against coming evil one may summon 
the forces of his being and lead on to the 
attack. Something may be done. But 
who can fight against death when it is 
accomplished? 

After all is over, defeated and defrauded 
of our treasure, we sink upon the sands of 
the arena, with nothing to oppose and 
nothing now to fear; we clasp our arms on 
thin air and spite of all our beliefs and 
cherished thoughts, what before was a far 
off whisper now becomes a wailing shriek 
rising and falling with the tempest of our 
emotions. “The dream is past and the end 
of all has come.” 

For days they scarcely went outside 
their door; night came, but it could not 
add to the gloom of their situation, and 


when at last the live-long night gradually 
faded away and gave place to the garish 
light of day, they rose unrefreshed and un- 
reconciled to begin again a contemplation 
of the crushing sorrow which benumbed 
their faculties. 

The supremely selfish soul may sorrow 
greatly at loss of one who ministered to its 
comfort or pleasure. But grief of this 
sort is soon appeased; a new toy may be 
secured and thought of the old lapse, and 
almost forgotten. But to the unselfish and 
the real, desire has concerned itself with 
the happiness of the object of its affection. 
“Dear heart, is it well with thee,” is the 
cry of the soul. And when at last rudely 
torn from the arms of love the spirit of 
our dear one has vanished and gone out, 
we are overwhelmed with fear of nothing- 
ness and mere oblivion. A thousand years 
of torment were light in comparison to 
this, if at their end we may again clasp 
the hand and look into the eyes we love. 

The ancient Persians worshipped fire as 
a symbol of Deity. Taken from, it does 
not decrease. It apparently destroys all 
things and yet is itself never consumed. 
Capable of infinite division its character 
never changes, and while it may be trans- 
planted to the uttermost parts, yet it 
ceases and determines if a suitable dwel- 
ling place be not provided. And ma}' it 
not be indeed, a type and sign of the In- 
finite Light? But from mortal man ever 
goes up the cry, when from the altar of 
his affections the fire of life has departed. 
Whence and whither? 

Where now is the ruddy gleam which so 
lately cheered the heart and delighted the 
sense. The fire that has gone out; where 
is it? 

Gradually they began to feel that duty 
to’ the living required them to cease use- 
less repining and an effort was made to as- 
sume again the duties and responsibilities 
of life; and this was made the more neces- 
sary by Charlie’s youthful insensibility 
'and lack of comprehension. As the form 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 67 


of his mother had been lowered into her 
grave, he, for the first time apparently, 
fully realized his loss and appeared over- 
whelmed at what to him seemed the heart- 
lessness of utter abandonment His cry: 
"Don’t let my mother be put in the 
ground,” had brought tears to the eyes of 
the most careless and indifferent looker on. 

Standing at the grave George Grafton 
supported the form of his daughter and 
held the hand of his boy. He stood erect; 
no sound escaped his lips; tears streamed 
from his eyes and coursed unheeded down 
his face, and although his vision took in 
the occurrences about him, he yet was oc- 
cupied with the thought, which at that 
trying moment was turned into conviction: 
"We shall meet again.” 

The burial had occurred just at set of 
sun and as Grafton stood at the graveside, 
his little family clinging to him in an 
agony of grief, the spirit of the man sus- 
tained him; looking up, for the moment he 
was comforted, just as the rays of the de- 
parting sun struggled from behind the 
cloud which here obscured its brightness. 
And as its last beams shone full upon him, 
conviction was borne in upon him and 
fashioned itself in the thought: "My love, 
you are not lost.” 

But the exaltation of the moment soon 
departed. At the poor little home every- 
thing brought his loss to mind and stirred 
the grief which filled his heart. Days fol- 
lowed in which he abandoned himself to 
the luxury of grief. 

But now the time had come when he 
must bestir himself and provide for the 
wants of his children. Charlie’s boyish 
fancies and easy forgetfulness had been a 
source of trial to both father and daughter. 
He soon wished to be amused and his 
active little muscles ached at thought of 
further inaction. That he should so soon 
be able to laugh struck them with wonder 
and amazement as something almost akin 
to sacrilege. But nature always triumphs. 
Little by little they began to see that the 


healthy activity of the boy called them 
from the selfish indulgence in a sorrow 
which could not save and which if further 
indulged would dishonor the wishes of her 
whom they mourned. Sorrowfully, the 
thread of life was taken up and work again 
begun. 

Mr. Ellery was among the first to call. 
He attempted no word of consolation but 
the grasp of his hand and the look of his 
eye told all that was worth the telling. 
"As you know,” said he to Mary, "I am 
a member of the school board, and I have 
had a conference with my associates in 
which we have agreed to offer you a posi- 
tion in the Plainville schools. Will you 
accept?” 

As Mary hesitated, making for the mo- 
ment no reply, he continued: 

"No doubt you feel at this time very 
little inclination to engage in any occupa- 
tion, but your own good sense will tell you 
that employment of some kind is an ab- 
solute necessity to your own mental well 
being.” 

"Your offer is most kindly made,” said 
Mr. Grafton, "but I scarcely see how she 
could accept it on account of the difficul- 
ties in the way.” 

"I have thought of them,” said Mr. 
Ellery cheerfully, "and think that all can 
be arranged satisfactorily. You, my 
friend, are well fitted for some kinds of 
employment to which you might turn 
your attention, provided you were not tied 
to this little homestead. Mrs. Ellery and 
myself have talked the matter over and she 
was anxious to have Mary and Charlie' 
make their home with us. We have no 
children, and, as much of my time is em- 
ployed in my study, or in the duties of my 
position, she is sometimes lonely. Mary 
was always a favorite of hers and would 
be to her a most acceptable companion. 
The little fellow could have a home with 
us and go with his sister to school. Of 
course we are poor and have little to give, 
but the necessary expense of living would 


68 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


be reduced for Mary and the boy, at our 
house. We have quite a large house and 
but two inhabitants," 

“I am very grateful to you for your 
offer, "said Grafton, "but I fear that may be 
drawing too heavily upon your generosity, 
and then you do not fully count the cost in 
such a complete change as this must bring 
about in your household." 

"On the contrary," said Mr. Ellery, "my 
wife will consider it a favor to herself. 
Being alone so much she fears she may be- 
come morbid and selfish, and looks forward 
to the arrangement with the greatest 
of pleasure. She has long looked upon 
Mary as a daughter and I feel sure that if 
you will give the plan encouragement that 
she will be able to bring arguments to bear 
which will silence all objections." 

So far Mary had not spoken. Evidently 
her mind was engaged in revolving the 
advantages and disadvantages of the pro- 
posed plan. Both Mr. Ellery and her 
father had spoken and now both looked to 
her for an expression of opinion. 

"I do not see how it can be," she said. 
"You would have no home, father. I could 
not bear the thought of thus completely 
breaking up what was once so happy a 
home." 

Tears came to her eyes and for a mo- 
ment she was unable to proceed. Grafton 
himself could not resist the infection and 
a silence fell on all, broken only by the 
ill concealed sobs which Mar}’ could not 
entirely suppress. 

Mr. Ellery prudently \withdrew, with 
the intention of sending his wife to still 
further urge the matter. 

After Mr, Ellery had taken his leave 
Mary gave way to her feelings completely, 
while Grafton sat with his head resting in 
his hands, for the moment, irresolute and 
broken hearted. The wild grief of his 
daughter which had now broken forth 
afresh at thought of the final breaking up 
of the family, strangely affected him and 
completely unmanned him. 


"Oh, my mother! my mother! why were 
you torn from us? Why could I not have 
been taken instead?" she wailed. Tears 
and sobs and broken ejaculations followed. 
Gradually she became calmer and endeav- 
ored to restrain herself. 

Seeing that the violence of her grief had 
for the time expended its force, Grafton 
took his hat and went out. 

Charlie was engaged near the house in 
driving little sticks into the ground in the 
form of a circle. As his father came out 
the door he called to him: 

. "Say, pa, come and see my little corral." 

Grafton walked slowly towards the boy, 
saying as he drew near, "yes, I seethe 
corral, but where are your cattle?" 

"Why, don’t you see them over there?" 
pointing, as he spoke, to half a dozen queer 
shaped pieces of corn cob, into which he 
had carefully stuck short splinters to rep- 
resent legs; at least that was the explana- 
tion offered. One of the "cattle," which 
Charlie said was "Old Crumple," was pos- 
sessed of crooked little sticks representing 
the old cow’s crooked and ungainly horns. 

The ridiculous little "cattle" made Graf- 
ton laugh before he knew it. 

"How do you tell which end is the head?" 
said he. 

"O, you just stick on the horns and that 
makes the head, the other end isn’t?" 

Grafton laughed again, and although he 
had made no sound and his laugh was only 
a larger smile, he instantly checked him- 
self with a feeling that he had done an un- 
seemly thing. 

"Come, Charlie,” said he, "let us go up 
to town and see what there may be in the 
post office for us." 

The home of the Graftons was, as has 
been stated, just in the outskirts of the vil- 
lage of Plainville and as it was only about 
a quarter of a mile to the post office the 
walk was not unsuited to the little fellow’s 
abilities. 

As he walked along, the clear bracing 
air and the childish talk of his boy grad- 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


ually produced their effects upon the mind 
of the man and although he replied to the 
boy and kept up a desultory conversation 
with him, his mind was really engaged in 
turning over the proposition made by Mr. 
Ellery; and the conclusion which he 
quickly reached, if indeed it had not been 
reached before, was, that for Mary the 
offer was exceptionally advantageous. 
Mrs. Ellery was a cultivated woman of 
equable temperament and most charitable 
disposition, and although he had at first 
thought that the plan might have been pro- 
posed solely as a sort of semi-charity to an 
afflicted family, further reflection satisfied 
him that the arrangement with a young 
woman of Mary’s capabilities and gener- 
ous disposition might prove as much of a 
help to the Ellerys as to herself. 

Arrived at the post-office he sat down to 
read some letters which were given him. 
Charlie sat on a nail-keg by his side 
eagerly engaged in noting the peculiarities 
of Mr. Baker’s various customers. 

Grafton had been one of the earliest or- 
ganizers among the farmers of the Alliance. 
Having taken an active part he had gradu- 
ally come to be considered as one of the 
fathers of the organization and had been 
elected by that body as a "Lecturer.” 
Holding this position he had been called 
upon to deliver addresses at different 
places, but of late, on account of his wife’s 
illness and death, he had not been able to 
leave home. Two of the letters were from 
places at a distance urging him to come 
once more and take up the work. 

He had barely finished reading his letters 
and was folding up the last one he had read 
when, Mr. Greene, the State President of 
the farmers’ organization came hurriedly 
into the store. 

"Hello, Grafton,” said he, "I’ve just come 
from your house.” 

"Why, so have I,” said he. 

"Well, I missed you on the way, some 
how, I suppose.” 

"When did you come in?” 


69 

"Why just a little while ago on the last 
train and I bolted right down to your 
house, which a boy showed me. Your 
daughter said she thought you were here, 
and so it proved. Say Grafton, I’ve got 
some work for you,” said he. 

CHAPTER XVII. — THE NEW HOME. 

ELL, what is it?” said Graf- 
ton, 

"Well, it is rather a long 
story to tell all the whys and where- 
fores, but to cut it short, the executive 
board have come to the conclusion to 
take a forward step and make an or- 
ganized effort to secure what we have 
been 'resoluting’ about so long. Resolu- 
tions cut no figure whatever, except to 
draw the attention and fix the thoughts of 
men upon a definite method; and as a mat- 
ter of fact most resolutions don’t even do 
that. An average crowd is satisfied with 
swelling periods and eloquent words, 
which really are only used to deceive. 
Now we have come to the conclusion that 
we have got through with the 'whereases’ 
and 'be it resolveds’ and have got to do 
something. Some of our men want to 
resolute some more and are most afraid of 
doing something, but the time never will 
come, I guess, when all men can see exact- 
ly alike. Anyhow, the board has made up 
its mind to go ahead with a definite plan. 
It is plain that we can only get what we 
want by political action; by the election nf 
men who will carry out our wishes, and 
the next thing is to elect them. But first 
we must be agreed as to what we want 
them to do when elected. The members 
of the board after a good deal of argument 
among themselves have come to an agree- 
ment upon a general plan, very near like 
that in your address, which was published 
in some of the papers, as you remember. 
The next thing is to carry it out, and a 
resolution was passed which in effect 
brought me here as a committee of one to 
induce you to undertake a mission. You 



70 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD, 


are to visit every county alliance in the 
State, and as many sub-alliances as pos- 
sible, deliver an address advocating the 
proposed plan of campaign, answer objec- 
tions, and otherwise forward the work the 
board has undertaken. The board will 
direct you from time to time regarding 
minor matters and [will see that you are 
paid for your services. There, that’s the 
whole story.” 

“Well, that IS a mission, sure enough," 
said Grafton “How much time will be em- 
ployed in all that?” 

“O, that’s hard to tell. You have held 
the position of State Lecturer, are well 
known and are just the man for this special 
business. The board will engage you un- 
til the annual meeting and I make no ques- 
tion that you can then be elected as State 
Lecturer again and kept constantly at 
work.” 

“Well, Greene, that strikes me rather 
favorably just at this time, fact is I was 
undetermined what course to take. Seems 
strange, though, that you should come 
just now,” 

“Oh, no, nothing sti ange about that. I 
heard of your recent affliction and thought 
that now you would be able to leave home. 
I should have come to see you before if I 
hadn’t known that it was impossible for 
you to leave.” 

“There is more in this than you know,” 
said Grafton, “Only to-day was an offer 
made that will place my children in a com- 
fortable home and make it possible for me 
to leave them with a feeling of security 
and satisfaction,” 

“These so-called coincidences are some- 
times wonderful as mere happenings,” said 
Mr. Greene, “but somehow I’ve an idea 
that affairs move on a regular plan. Each 
man only sees one act in the play and can’t 
make head or tail to it; he only reads one 
chapter in the story and thinks the villain 
is having too good a time of it and that the 
good men and women are not sufficiently ap- 
preciated, but my notion is that when we 


are able to read the book clear through 
we’ll see that things are managed for us. 
The idea that man is the only thing in the 
whole universe not bound by exact law, 
from which there is no escape, is foolisli- 
ness to me. Everything else is. And I 
believe man’s moral nature is as completely 
subject to the laws which control mind, as 
his body is to what we call natural law. If 
a man puts his finger in the fire it will be 
burned, sure, and the size of the burn will 
depend upon the amount of fire applied to 
it. And the operation of law in the moral 
world is just as absolute and its penalties 
just as sure as in the other case. Error 
leaves its impress upon a man’s mind. He 
may get “forgiveness” but the scars of the 
conflict all remain and the effect will be 
seen somewhere, either in his children or 
elsewhere. If he can’t see the scars his 
neighbors can. 

“People misunderstand what is meant 
by ‘forgiveness.’ A child plays with 
matches, contrary to its mother’s com- 
mand. It gets burned. The mother 
comes home and the child by this time is 
‘sorry’ and pleads to be forgiven. Well, 
the mother pardons the fault and ‘for" 
gives’ the child. But, mind you, that 
don’t interfere with the burn a mite. It is 
right there. And if one-third of the sur- 
face of the child’s body is burned it will 
die, and forgiveness don’t cut the slightest 
figure in the result. If the burns are not 
extensive enough to cause death, and only 
leave an unsightly scar, possibly the 
mother may love the child, or pity it — 
which is much the same thing — better for 
the burn. But the child has actually lost 
something which it can never regain. The 
mother will never have quite the same con- 
fidence in it again, for one thing, and if 
the burn is serious enough to destroy the 
usefulness of the child’s body in any way, 
forgiveness won’t mend the loss. Novt 
there are men walking around, just loaded 
down with moral scars which destroy their 
usefulness, who, because they imagine 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


71 


themselves forgiven say, Grafton, this 

never will do. Why, I actually was 
preaching.” 

“Come home with me and we will talk 
this matter of the mission over,” said Graf- 
ton, “you can’t go back until to-morrow 
anyway.” 

“Charlie,” said Grafton, “you run on 
ahead and tell sister that Mr. Greene is 
coming home with me. We will be along 
directly.” 

When Grafton and his friend arrived at 
the cottage, they were met by Charlie who 
came out a little way to meet them. 

“Mrs, Ellery is in the house,” said he, 
“she came to see sister.” 

“I’ll not go in just yet,” said Mr. Greene, 
“Charlie will show me his pig first. I see 
you have some pigs; which one is yours?” 

Charlie led the way to the pig pen anx- 
ious to show Mr. Greene which one he 
called'his, tell him what its name was and 
describe its peculiarities. 

Grafton went at once into the house. As 
he entered, Mrs. Ellery and Mary were 
sitting close together; Mrs. Ellery had 
her arm around Mary, who was actually 
smiling, although her eyes bore evidence 
of recent tears. 

“I came right down as soon as Mr. El- 
lery came home and told me that he had 
been here,” said Mrs. Ellery, speaking to 
Grafton, “and I am so glad I did. I can 
sympathize with Mary perfectly; my 
mother died when I was quite young and 
although it is now years ago, it seems but 
yesterday to me. Mary has promised to 
come up in the morning to see me and we 
can then arrange all the particulars of her 
coming to us — that is, if you don’t object, 
Mr. Grafton.” 

“You don’t know how grateful I am to 
you, Mrs. Ellery, for the offer made,” said 
Grafton warmly, “but I can’t help feeling 
some misgivings in relation to the mat- 
ter.” 

“Yes, of course, I should expect it, but 
we can put it in this way: Mary can have 


a place in the school as long as she 
pleases, no doubt; everybody loves her 
and she will then be self-supporting. She 
can board with us and keep Charlie with 
her. Should this arrangement come to an 
end, another can be made, never fear. But 
I want her near me. Here, everything 
brings her loss 'constantly to mind and it 
would unfit her for the place which I be- 
lieve she will yet fill.” 

As Grafton made no immediate reply, 
Mrs. Ellery bustled about in a kindly, 
motherly fashion, putting on “her things,” 
as she prepared to go. 

“Put on your sunbonnet, Mary, and go 
a piece with me,” said she. 

As the ladies stepped out of the door, 
Grafton rose, went into the little kitchen 
and began to build a fire in the stove, that 
it might be ready for Mary when she re- 
turned, to use in getting supper. While he 
was busy at this, Charlie came in, leading 
Mr. Greene by the hand, busily engaged 
meantime in giving that gentleman a full 
account not only of the pigs but also of 
other matters in which he was interested. 

Mary soon returned and busied herself 
with the preparation of the evening meal. 
Mr. Greene was interested in a book and 
comfortably seated in the “living room” 
while Grafton still remained in the kitchen. 
Softly closing the door between the rooms, 
Grafton said to his daughter: 

“It seems to me, Mary, that it will be 
just the thing for you, at this time, at any 
rate, to take up with the offer of the El- 
lerys.” 

For the moment she made no reply, in- 
deed she felt that she could scarcely trust 
herself to speak, and kept busily at work; 
presently she said: 

“Everything seems to point to the ar- 
rangement as the best that can be made.” 

“Well, then,” he said, “we will under- 
stand that you undertake the school. I 
will sell off our little stock of movable 
property and can let you have some 
money, which you will need. If worst 


72 THE GRAFTONS OR 

comes to worst, we can at least come back 
here.” 

Grafton rejoined his friend in the other 
room and before the evening was over it 
was arranged between them that within 
two weeks he should report to Mr. Greene, 
as the president of the executive board, for 
duty. 

The next morning Mr, Greene took his 
departure, well pleased in having secured 
the active co-operation of the one man 
whom he thought fully capable of conduct- 
ing the work undertaken by the organization 
of which he was the head. 

Having made up his mind, Grafton was 
not the man to long delay in the execution 
of his plans; but actively set to work to 
make the necessary preparations for carry- 
ing into effect the plan in view. As soon 
as breakfast was over and his guest had 
departed, he went at once to see parties 
whom he thought might buy the property 
he was now anxious to sell. 

After Mary had finished her morning 
work she put on a neatly fitting black 
dress, combed her luxurianc brown hair 
with more than her usual care and taking 
Charlie by the hand, set out for the prom- 
ised call upon Mrs. Ellery. As she locked 
the door of the little cottage and turned 
away from its silent and melancholy walls 
it was with difficulty at first that she could 
proceed. Thoughts of the past, now gone 
forever, came over her with great and 
most depressing force. But she was young 
and healthful, the morning air was in- 
vigorating and as Charlie, with the 
thoughtless gaiety of youth, kept up a 
cheerful and enlivening conversation in 
which she was forced to join, she had not 
gone far until she felt her spirits rise and 
much of that dead weight depart, which so 
long had pressed with crushing heaviness 
upon her heart. On the way she met a 
number of her acquaintance all of whom 
greeted her with interest and plain evi- 
dence of good will in their countenances. 
This could not fail of its effect. The hu- 


LOOKING FORWARD. 

man heart is hungry for sympathy and 
without it the half of life is lost. 

Meeting “Uncle Bill” she stopped for a 
moment, “Good morning, Mr. Welden,” 
said she. 

“I am awful glad to see you looking so 
well this morning,” said he, “I believe you 
are getting prettier all the time.” 

Mary blushed, and with some slight con- 
fusion said: “Now, Mr. Welden, you 
really are a flatterer. I didn’t think it of 
you.” 

“Oh well,” said he, “I am an old man, 
and half of the time I have a sneaking no- 
tion that I’m an old fool, but there is no 
flattery in that.” 

As Mary continued her walk the old man 
turned to look after her, saying to himself 
as he did so, “she is a pretty woman, that’s 
a fact.” Going into his house which was 
near by he told his wife, “That girl of 
Grafton’s is going to make some man’s 
heart ache ’fore long, or I miss my guess.” 

Arriving at the Ellerys, Mary and Char- 
lie were in the midst of a pleasant chat as 
Mrs. Ellery, having seen them coming, ap- 
peared at the door, and drawing Mary’s 
arm within her own, ushered her at once 
into the sitting-room. 

It contained a stranger. A tall, broad- 
shouldered young man of light complexion 
and expressive face was engaged in conver- 
sation with Mr. Ellery. 

“Mr. Maitland,” said Mrs. Ellery, “this 
is my young friend, Mary Grafton; she 
was not aware that any one was present or, 
I dare say she would not have come in.” 

Mr. Maitland rose with easy grace and 
politely acknowledged the introduction. 

“Mr. Maitland is the son of my old towns- 
man and college classmate,” said Mr. 
Ellery, “who has just arrived this morn- 
ing rather unexpectedly. He is on a 
pleasure trip at present and happened in, 
as we say. I don’t know of anybody, 
George, who could give me more pleasure 
by a visit than yourself, unless indeed, it 
should be your father.” 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD, 


Mrs. Ellery had by this time removed 
Mary’s hat. The morning walk and the 
unexpected meeting with a cultivated 
stranger, had caused the native rose to 
flush upon her cheek and dispell the pallor 
which of late had prevented its appearance. 
Mr. Ellery wondered that he had not 
noticed before that she was really a beauti- 
ful woman. He had thought her an inter- 
esting and intelligent girl, pretty perhaps, 
but now his eyes were opened and he was 
surprised. 

The look of the stranger clearly showed 
that he too was impressed. He was a gen- 
tleman, he did not stare, but his occasional 
glances betrayed the feeling of interest 
and admiration which he could not con- 
ceal. 

Mr. Ellery’s conversation and Mrs. El- 
lery’s officious pleasantries prevented any 
feeling of embarrassment on Mary’s part, 
while Charlie unnoticed by all, sat bolt up- 
right on one of Mrs. Ellery’s “stuffed 
chairs” and looked first at one and then 
another. Evidently he didn’t understand 
the situation. 


CHAPTER XVIII. — DUTY. 

M r. MAITLAND was the only son 
and heir of a wealthy Massachu- 
setts manufacturer, who had been 
the early friend and classmate at col- 
lege of Mr. Ellery. At graduation the 
paths of the two had separated Mait- 
land entering business with his father, 
while Ellery began the study of divinity 
at Andover. After his graduation at An- 
dover he had settled for some years in 
Massachusetts, and the friends had kept 
up an intimacy.- which upon Mr. Ellery’s 
removal to the West had been interrupted 
and with the exception of the very rare 
visits of Mr. Ellery to the old Massachu- 
setts home had now almost ceased. The 
younger Maitland was also an alumnus of 
the same college at which his father had 
passed what he now looked backward to as 
four of his happiest years. At his gradu- 


73 

ation he was entirely undetermined regard- 
ing the course of life which he should 
adopt. He was a generous liearted youth, 
who having never been obliged to exert 
himself, on account of his father’s growing 
wealth, had so far pursued the even tenor 
of his way without meeting with opposition 
sufficient to determine what his real char- 
acter might yet prove to be. Possessed of 
a stalwart frame he was also indebted to 
nature for an equable temper and cheery 
good sense. That he was an optimist look- 
ing upon the brighter side of life was a 
matter of course. His mental constitution 
and a certain native pride of character had 
largely kept him from the follies of youth 
without much effort or serious thought on 
his part. 

The elder Maitland although surrounded 
with luxury and happy in his domestic re- 
lations, still felt that his life had not been 
fully and entirely successful. At times he 
felt stirring within him the old youthful 
desire to leave behind him a name; some- 
thing which would prove to the world that 
his life had not been in vain; that he had at 
least done something towards making the 
world a better place of residence for those 
who might come after him. Immersed, 
however, in the cares of business, these 
thoughts, stimulated as they occasionally 
were by a visit or a letter from his old 
friend Ellery, had taken no serious and 
positive direction at the time of his son’s 
graduation at Amherst. The father had 
attended the Commencement exercises and 
in listening to the orations and disquisi- 
tions of the young and ardent souls, about 
to launch bravely forth upon the sea of 
life, had again come under the generous 
influences which swell the youthful heart 
with hope and pride and fill it with the 
glorious spirit of endeavor. Once more 
the thoughts and aspirations of his younger 
days came over him; he remembered the 
impulses of his own youth and was obliged 
sorrowfully to own to himself that judged 
by the standards then set up that his life 


74 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


had been a failure. What great thing had 
he accomplished? True, he had accumu- 
lated wealth, but in thi ; accumulation he 
certainly had benefited no one but him- 
self. Had he really done even this? The 
smooth and placid countenance of his old 
friend Ellery came up before his mind and 
he could not fail to contrast the peaceful 
expression of his old classmate’s face with 
the furrowed visage which the mirror 
showed him as his own. Was not his 
wealth a damage even to his own son? A 
clever young man with good natural abili- 
ties he yet was without a motive in life. 
Like a ship at sea without a rudder, that 
he carried a valuable cargo but added to 
the loss and ruin of the final and inevit- 
able shipwreck. Should he make of his 
son a man of business like himself? But 
had he not already acknowledged himself 
a failure, and should he continue in his 
son what he now regretted in himself? 
Why should he? Was his wealth not 
sufficient? Why then should his son spend 
his life in delving for more? 

With him, to resolve was to act. And 
on the journey home he took occasion to 
speak seriously of the future and of his 
desire that his son should succeed where 
he himself had failed. “Live for some- 
thing, my son,” said he; “have a purpose 
in life, beyond the mere gratification of the 
sensual and natural wants of the body. 
This is the life of the beast. For the beast 
it may be wise. If man is above the beast, 
his thought should pursue a higher aim. 
And even without regard to the future, the 
man of generous emotions can never be 
satisfied with himself and his life, unless 
he is able to see that he has rendered ac- 
tive and acceptable service to his fellows. 

“And if we base our actions here upon 
the hope of another world beyond this, we 
cannot forget that Jesus in his description 
of the final judgment and its awards, made 
them conform wholly and entirely to the 
results of our action here and its effect 
upon the material well being of our fellow 


creatures. 'Prophesying in thy name’ 
and doing 'wonderful works’ seemed to 
cut no figure there. Actual results in the 
betterment of the conditions which sur- 
round humanity in this world were re- 
quired. ‘I was an hungered and ye gave 
me no meat’ is the sentence which he 
passed upon people who seem to have 
thought that they ought to have been re- 
ceived, and I know of no one having 
authority to remit what he explicitly, and 
in many places, has demanded.” 

Although the elder Maitland had left his 
son free to choose the manner of life he 
would lead, his own high sense of fealty to 
the race had induced him after due reflec- 
tion to take up the study of divinity with 
the intention of finally entering the min- 
istry. And this had been accomplished, 
and at the time of his visit he had finished 
his studies and been licensed as a preacher, 
although he had never been settled as 
pastor. During the progress of his studies 
at Andover, doubts had arisen in his mind 
regarding the doctrines there taught and 
he had become somewhat unsettled in his 
views. Seizing upon this as a favorable 
opportunity he had resolved to spend some 
time in travel before he began the work of 
life, regarding which he now felt some 
misgivings. 

This then was the man whom we have 
now introduced to our readers. He had 
never been in the West and Kansas and her 
people were alike new and strange to him. 

After a little time spent in general con- 
versation Mrs. Ellery said: 

“Mr. Maitland, you will please excuse 
us; here in the West we are our own ser- 
vants you know and therefore not entirely 
the mistresses of our own time; no doubt 
Mr. Ellery will now have some one who 
can fully sympathize with him.” 

No sooner had the ladies got away from 
the sound of the voices of the two gentle- 
men, now busily engaged in telling and 
hearing news from “old Amherst,” than 
Mary said: 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


75 


“Now, Mrs. Ellery, what made you take 
me into that room?” 

“Why my dear, Mr. Maitland had just 
said that the people of the West, whom he 
had seen, did not impress him very favor- 
ably, and I was anxious to show him that 
we really had some nice people residing 
here, and from his manner I fancy that he 
will now acknowledge that he was too swift 
in his judgment.” 

Mary blushed; it was a new experience 
to her, and for the moment the thought 
that she had been paraded as a specimen 
was rather unpleasant. And this must 
have appeared upon her face for Mrs. 
Ellery continued: 

“You poor little innocent, don’t take it 
so seriously to heart. You made a good 
appearance. It was plain to all that you 
were ignorant of his presence when I 
ushered you in. If any one is to blame of 
course it must be me, but I can’t say that I 
feel that I have sinned. I think, however, 
that most women take delight in bringing 
together eligible young people.” 

The flush upon Mary’s face gradually 
disappeared as she said: 

“Don’t deceive yourself, Mr. Maitland 
is a gentleman of wealth and position, and 
would only feel amusement at the mention 
of my ‘eligibility.’” 

“Don’t deceive yourself, my dear,” said 
Mrs. Ellery. “I know something of so- 
ciety, and of the people whom Mr, Mait- 
land has been accustomed to meet, and I 
am' of a very different opinion, still we will 
not discuss the matter further, now at any 
rate, as I must proceed to get my dinner. 
No matter how nice and refined men may 
be, I never found one yet that didn’t like a 
good dinner.” * 

Charlie long ago had taken himself out 
into the yard, where just now he was try- 
ing to minister to the wants of a distracted 
old hen. The hen, with her little brood 
about her, had been tied to a stake that she 
might not wander. Anxiety for the wel- 
fare of her downy flock had however taken 


away the little judgment her foolish head 
contained and much fluttering had hope- 
lessly involved her. She lay upon her 
side, the string many times about her and 
preventing further motion. Charlie was 
unable to extricate her and called loudly: 
“O Mary! come! the poor biddy can’t get 
up.” 

Mary ran out the back door, and soon 
had poor biddy upon her feet with all her 
brood about her. Giving Charlie a love 
pat upon the cheek she charged him not to 
“get into mischief” and was back again in 
a moment. Mrs. Ellery had noted the oc- 
currence from the window and when Mary 
appeared she said: 

“What a dear little mother you are, to 
be sure.” 

For an instant Mary did not understand 
and Mrs. Ellery explained: 

“Just to see how Charlie depended upon 
you, and how easily you managed both 
him and the poor old hen.” 

“Why shouldn’t I?” said she. 

“To be sure,” said the elder, “it seems 
easy and natural to you.” 

Mrs. Ellery did not offer further explan- 
ation but she could not but wonder at what 
appeared to her as the wonderful adapta- 
bility of the young woman beside her. Of 
generous temper and naturally elevated 
thought, well read for her years, she yet 
was most capable and efficient in the 
ordinary walks and work of life. In what- 
ever position placed she yet seemed easily 
to lead. 

Mrs. Ellery did not know, what is yet 
the fact, that American character is pro- 
lific in the production of an adaptability 
and many sidedness, elsewhere unequaled 
upon the face of the earth. 

As they proceeded with the work of the 
kitchen the proposed change was fully dis- 
cussed and it was determined that when 
Mr. Grafton had completed his prepara- 
tions, that Mary and Charlie should take 
up their residence with the Ellerys. 

Having assisted Mrs. Ellery up to the 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


76 

time when she was nearly ready to place 
her dinner upon the table, notwithstanding 
the entreaties of Mrs. Ellery to stay to 
dinner she took Charlie by the hand and 
soon was at home. 

Ushered into dinner soon after, Mr. 
Maitland at once inquired for Miss Graf- 
ton. 

“O," said Mrs. Ellery, “she wouldn’t 
stay. I knew she wouldn’t, although of 
course, I tried to induce her.” 

“She is a pretty young lady,” said he. 

“So then you have changed your opinion?” 
said Mrs. Ellery playfully: “only a little 
while ago you were saying that Western 
people did not impress you favorably.” 

“Of course,” said he, “I spoke hastily 
and really without much opportunity to 
form an opinion.” 

“I think George,” said Mr. Ellery, “that 
I can understand in part, at least, why you 
have spoken as you have. I know that 
was my impression on first coming to the 
West. People in Massachusetts pay far 
more attention to dress and appearances 
than here, and the average dress and man- 
ner of the men of a Western town, in the 
eyes of a resident of an Eastern city, ap- 
pear very careless and hurried, while 
occasionally a prominent and worthy citi- 
zen is actually slovenly in both dress and 
manner. This does not arise from inten- 
tional disrespect for the forms of good 
breeding, but is simply owing to the new- 
ness of the country and its consequent 
freedom from social mannerisms. Men 
readily run back to first principles; our 
own frontiersmen thrown into contact 
with Indians, dress like Indians and act 
like them. Send a dozen college boys on 
a 'camping out’ tour, and they very readily 
and naturally drop many customs which 
are quite indispensable at home. And so 
it has been with us of the West. We have 
followed the customs of the country, but 
you will find as much, if not more, sterling 
character and native ability among West- 
ern people as among the better dressed and 


more dissembling citizens of the East. 
This, however, is being rapidly changed, 
and in our larger towns you will find 
great efforts made in keeping up appear- 
ances, which, after all, are very deceitful.” 

“No doubt that is true, ” said Mr, Mait- 
land, “but you haven’t told me anything 
about this Miss Grafton yet.” 

“No I haven’t, I shall be obliged to turn 
you over to Mrs. Ellery for full informa- 
tion, although I can say she is rather a re- 
markable young person,” 

“We will call upon Mary to-morrow or 
in a day or two, if you wish,” said Mrs. 
Ellery, secretly overjoyed at the turn 
affairs had taken. 

“Why yes," said he, “if we can do so 
properly, and without violating the proprie- 
ties. I should be pleased to do so,” 

CHAPTER XIX. — THE STUDENT. 

M r. MAITLAND seemed wonder- 
fully attracted by Kansas scenery 
and people. The clear, sunny 
days, the. lightness of the air with the con- 
sequent slightly increased respiration and 
natural invigoration, had for him as they 
have for all, when first they come under 
these subtile influences, a nameless charm 
and fascination not easily resisted. 

It was a veritable wonderland to him. 
The prairie farms with their widespread 
fruitfulness, the clear blue sky, often with- 
out the faintest semblance of a cloud, the 
strange and peculiar effect of sunlight and 
shadow, unnoticed by the familiar eye, the 
balmy air of the early evening, untouched 
by the chilly dampness of the sea, the 
glorious panorama of the sky which nightly 
spread seemed increased in size and power 
by the clearness of the air, all had for him 
a pathos and a power which compelled his 
admiration and caused his heart to rise in 
thankfulness to the great and incompre- 
hensible source of truth and beauty. 

Like all true and uncorrupted souls, 
Maitland was in love with Nature; to him 
she was ever beautiful, and in the newly 


THE GRAFTONS OR 

seen manifestations of her loveliness he, 
like the true lover, found ever increasing 
delight. 

The cynic tells us that beauty exists 
solely in the eye of the beholder, and even 
though he speak the truth, this may only 
serve to show and fully prove that the be- 
clouded eye of man fails to behold what in 
reality exists. Taken before a painting, 
which causes the deepest feelings of culti- 
vated man to struggle within him for the 
mastery, the painted savage sees only the 
many colored hues of the picture and the 
tinsel and polish of the frame. And does 
not power inhabit the creation of the 
artist though undetected by the savage? 
And do not men who call themselves civil- 
ized, go through a weary life viewing in 
the daily recurring panorama only the 
glitter and tinsel of the exterior, without 
ever for a moment comprehending its true 
meaning or being able to behold the glory 
of the thought expressed by the great 
Artist? And because these fail in com- 
prehension shall we then refuse the higher 
evidence of our better nature and deny 
the existence of whatever civilized savages 
fail to understand? 

The people, too, were to him a constant 
study. While some there were who strove 
to appear what they were not, for the most 
part there was an absence of that miser- 
able spirit of dissimulation and pretence 
which in larger or smaller measure ap- 
pears inseparably connected with the ad- 
vancement of cultivated and refining in- 
fluences. With most there was a hearty 
naturalness which had for him, as it has 
for all, an attraction which he felt no dis- 
position to resist. 

Aided by the natural and womanly tact 
of Mrs. Ellery, within the first week of 
his residence in Plainville he had several 
times met Mary Grafton. Her fresh 
young face had first attracted him, but as 
he came to know her better ihis was tem- 
porarily forgotten in his growing wonder 
at the grasp of mind betrayed in casual 


LOOKING FORWARD. 77 

conversation. Where had she learned the 
thoughts expressed? Although the cot- 
tage contained a good many books, for a 
cottage, still to him the collection exposed 
as it was in the little “living room,” was 
insignificant and wholly incapable of re- 
vealing the mystery. Who had taught 
her to think? Was she self taught? And 
where did .thought originate? 'Could one 
think only the thoughts of others? Or in 
the evolution of interior consciousness did 
this comparatively untaught woman orig- 
inate for herself the clear opinions which 
she so modestly expressed? Or did thought 
“come” to people from an exterior source, a 
supersensory realm, whose very existence 
was unknown to those favored by its min- 
istrations? But who could answer?' To 
the deepest questioning of his mind no 
answer had ever been returned. Would 
answer ever come? Could it be possible 
that the intense desire of man to know 
would in some far off sphere be finally and 
dully satisfied, or, distressing thought, did 
man but grope in darkness, forever reach- 
ing blindly toward an ideal impossible of 
attainment? 

To Maitland, Mary Grafton was an 
enigma he could not solve. She seemed 
possessed of a two-fold nature. Seen at 
her home and in the homely performance 
of the duties devolving upon her as 
daughter and sister she was most charm- 
ingly natural and helpful. Her very look 
as she sought her father’s pleasure or an- 
swered the childish questioning of her 
little brother, was to Maitland an inspira- 
tion and a lesson in that divine sympathy 
, which enfolds the world with the radiance 
of Heaven. Engaged, however, in serious 
conversation, the elevation of her thought 
and the calm superiority of her manner, 
utterly lacking in self consciousness, 
evinced the power of an intellect which 
compelled his respect, although he could 
not agree with its conclusions. She certainly 
differed from the young ladies of his ac- 
quaintance. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


78 

The little household was an open book 
to all who came and the very poverty of 
its surroundings compelled a publicity to 
which Maitland had heretofore been a 
stranger. The little “living room” with 
the “lean-to” kitchen and two tiny bed 
rooms made up the establishment. One 
room served all the various purposes of 
parlor, dining room and library; between 
this and the kitchen the door was gener- 
ally open and thus was for the first time 
presented to the visitor an opportunity to 
stud)' a manner of life to which he now paid 
close attention. Here were people without 
what he had been taught to regard as the 
comforts and refinements of life, who yet 
were happy in each other. Without 
scholastic attainments here was a most at- 
tractive personage who yet was capable of 
the most elevated thought. 

Plainly he was becoming interested and 
Mrs. Ellery was correspondingly happy. 
The visit, which at first was intended only 
as a stay of a day or two, on the way to 
California, gradually lengthened, without 
apparent intention on the part of the young 
preacher of bringing it to a close. 

Mr. Ellery’s horse and buggy were often 
seen standing at the cottage door. Mrs. 
Ellery somehow had so much to say to 
Mary concerning the removal, that fre- 
quent trips were necessary and as the duty 
of entertaining Mr. Maitland had in part 
fallen on her, she contrived to be accom- 
panied by him on divers and sundry oc- 
casions, which the neighbors remarked, 
became more and more frequent as time 
passed on. 

Mr. Maitland had met Mr. Grafton a 
number of times, but between the two no 
intimate acquaintance seemed possible, in 
fact a serious constraint had early devel- 
oped. The business which Grafton in- 
tended undertaking was often discussed in 
the hearing of the young man and comments 
varying with the feelings and sentiments of 
the speaker were passed, so that he had 
soon come to believe that as Grafton’s 


mission was that of an agitator intending to 
affect political action, that it was, no mat- 
ter how honest the intention, rather 
shadowy in its nature. He did not think 
it exactly disreputable, but his education 
and previous training inclined him to think 
it exceedingly questionable in character. 

In his view the fortunes of all were in 
their own hands and for people to rebel 
against what he regarded as the decrees 
of fate, or the orderings of Providence, 
was simply to find fault with themselves 
in endeavoring to foist the blame of re- 
sults upon laws or customs, when whatever 
of ill had resulted was entirely owing to 
personal short coming. In consonance 
with this, the only way to remedy what- 
ever of ill there was in life was for each to 
bring himself into right relations with his 
surroundings. And this was to be effected 
mainly by each securing for himself a 
personal righteousness of character which 
would insure to all the high development 
of which each was capable and whatever 
measure of worldly success was intended 
for the individual. The American form of 
government was as nearly perfect as it 
was possible for human effort to construct 
and fault finding with .that was almost 
sacrilegious in character. Thus armed, he 
considered that Grafton in undertaking 
radical change was rushing in where 
angels might well feel the need of caution 
in their movements. 

The two men, thus differently con- 
stituted, had in conversation, drifted upon 
topics in which Grafton was deeply inter- 
ested, and without developing an argument, 
each felt satisfied that he had found out 
how the other stood, and like mental com- 
batants generally, each had underrated the 
position of the other. 

Having completed his arrangements 
Grafton made preparations to move his 
children with their individual belongings 
to their new home. Mary wished to defer 
the matter until after Mr. Maitland had 
taken his leave, but her father would not 


I 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


79 


listen to the thought of her remaining in 
the cottage after his departure. She knew 
that when once her father had made up his 
mind, that it would be useless to argue the 
matter and accordingly with heav}' heart 
and many silent tears Mary locked the 
door of the little home, where her mother 
had breathed her last. Somehow it seemed 
to her that here she was nearer her mother 
than elsewhere, and reason as she might 
about the macter, she could not but feel 
that in leaving the cottage she was moving 
herself farther away from the silent in- 
fluences still proceeding from the dearest 
heart that had ever fluttered for her in hu- 
man breast. In the hurry and bustle at- 
tending the change in residence, Grafton 
had largely concealed whatever of sorrow 
he may have felt. Just before he was to 
start upon his journey, however, he called 
at Mr. Ellery’s house for the purpose of 
saying farewell to his children. Mrs. 
Ellery was present but very considerately 
withdrew. The time was short and not 
much could be said; indeed he had pur- 
posely deferred the parting until but a 
short time before the starting of the train 
upon which he was to go. Taking Charlie 
upon his knee he took a seat near Mary. 

“Cnarlie,” said he, “I have only one 
thing to tell you in parting; it is this: Be a 
good boy and mind what your sister tells 
you.” 

“Now, Mary,” said he, “it isn’t worth 
while for me to leave commands for you, 
but this I hope you will remember: Live 
your own life. Be true to your highest 
conception of right, remembering that we 
have each become a law unto ourselves. 
What to you* seems just and true is bind- 
ing upon your soul, whether upon others' 
or not. I shall see you both frequently,” 
said he, and kissing each fervently he was 
gone. 

There had not been time for many tears 
or an exhibition of deep feeling and al- 
though both father and daughter were 
deeply affected by the separation, still it 


had occurred quietly and without excite- 
ment. Nor was it until her father had 
gone and the full meaning of the breaking 
up of the family came over her that Mary 
realized that one of the turning points of 
life had now been passed, whether for good 
or ill was yet to be determined. 

Retiring to her room she gave herself up 
for the time to the most somber reflections. 
How full of sorrow the last few years had 
been. The loss of their home and her 
mother’s untimely death again weighed 
heavily upon her mind. How happy the 
home had been, now destroyed forever. 
For the moment bitter thoughts filled her 
heart. The loss of the home and the con- 
sequent shock, coming at a time of delicate 
health, had killed her mother. But for the 
added misery of poverty and waning fortune 
she would have rallied and recovered. And 
what were the influences which had 
brought all this about? Having made a 
study of these she was full}" convinced 
that the control of the markets and finances 
of the country had so depressed the busi- 
ness of the farmer as to cause the condi- 
tion of affairs which had resulted in their 
financial ruin. And this, thought she, is 
the work of men who claim the right thus 
to destroy homes and happiness, and 
slowly murder by means of tne market. 
Freedom of contract there was none. That 
all had an equal chance in life was a de- 
lusion. If mere weight of money was thus 
to rule, the combination which secured 
the larger sum, controlled all. Far back 
in the history of the race, brawn and the 
power of muscle were the arbiters of fate. 
All were equal there; each could use the 
strength he had, but the giant of the iron 
hand took to himself whatever pleased his 
fancy, while petty cultivators of the 
ground could hide when he walked abroad. 

Thus was it now, except that instead of 
muscle, money ruled, and cruelty and in- 
justice were the result of the reign of 
either When a combination had been 
formed and an agreement entered into by 


8o 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


the controllers of the market only to pay 
so much, the farmer was told: 

“We do not compel you to sell to us at a 
stated price,” well knowing that a price 
bad been fixed beyond which he could not 
go. 

“We do not compel you to ship your 
grain and stock upon our railroads,” says 
the magnates, well knowing that the neces- 
sities of the producer force him to use the 
railway, although half the value of his 
property be taken for its carriage. 

! ‘If you do not like our charges, build you 
a railroad to carry your stuff, or transport 
your carcass to the city.” says the sharp- 
ers who ^ have possessed themselves of the 
lines of communication. 

“You are not compelled to borrow our 
money,” say the Ministers of Mammon, 
well knowing that in modern society there 
is but one thing which all must have in 
larger or smaller quantities and having 
secured a monopoly of its management 
they await the homage of all. 

Thus ran her thoughts and rebellion rose 
within her breast. With flashing eyes and 
quick coming breath she resolved with her 
mother’s fate before her, to do whatever 
seemed possible to oppose giant and over- 
powering wrong. If rebellion against 
tyranny was obedience to God, she would 
be a rebel, whatever might betide. 


CHAPTER XX. — OPINIONS. 

I T will not be supposed that affairs at 
Mr. Ellery’s were unnoticed by the 
people of Plainville. All the actual 
happenings were duly reported, while 
many events were discussed which it 
was thought might possibl}' occur. And 
as all were at liberty to exercise their 
imaginations regarding the future, the 
faculty was given full play by much the 
larger share of the villagers. 

One morning Mr. Ellery found that his 
horse had cast a shoe which must surely be 
replaced. Leading the animal over to Mr. 
Weldon’s shop, the loss of the shoe was 


stated and the blacksmith at once set to 
work to remedy the difficulty. But 
although Mr. Ellery was employed in hold- 
ing the horse and Weldon in fitting the 
shoe, the minds of both were comparative- 
ly unemployed. It is said that a certain 
and unmentionable personage finds work 
for idle hands and minds to do, and this 
wise old saw probably includes in its oper- 
ation the man of prayers and sermons as 
well as the common and undevout. How- 
ever this may be, the blacksmith could not 
refrain from at once addressing himself to 
the most interesting topic of conversation 
in all Plainville. 

“Pretty nice kind of a man that’s visitin’ 
you, ain’t he? I believe he’s a preacher, 
too.” 

“Yes, Maitland is a fine young man of 
generous impulses, who, so far at least, 
has not been spoiled by getting fastened in 
a groove of any kind. Most men run in a 
groove or rut of their own, whether of 
business or habit of mind, and judge every- 
thing by its relation to their particular 
line of thought. This they imagine to be 
very straight — to others it appears crooked 
enough — while but few are of sufficient 
breadth of mind to see that there is good 
in all and that none are perfect.” 

“Well, he may be an awful nice man, 
but he ain’t jest the kind of a man I would 
pick out for Mary Grafton,” said the 
blacksmith, breaking at once into the topic 
which interested him most. 

“Well, I am not aware that anybody is 
‘picking him out,' ” said the preacher 
rather coolly. 

“Yes, I know, but then you see folks 
doesn’t have to be knocked down with a 
hint before they take it. Now Mary was 
always a favorite with our Plainville peo- 
ple and they don’t quite fancy havin’ this 
Boston feller come out here and carry off 
the sweetest flower in the whole garden. 
It kinder sets them agin him, you know.” 

“Maitland isn’t from Boston, and I don’t 
know that he has any idea of carrying off 


IHE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


8l 


our flower. So that Plainville people are 
altogether too fast.” 

The blacksmith apparently paid no at- 
tention to the cold water which Mr. Ellery 
seemed disposed to throw upon the discus- 
sion, and continued: "Now Mary always 
put me in mind of one of them high strung 
Kentucky mares that we occasionally see; 
pretty as a picture, high head, arched 
neck, curved and pointed ears, big, clear- 
looking eyes, knows everything, can do 
anything and willing to do it, too, if you 
only treat ’em right, but for all they 
are so bidable and easy managed and 
sweet tempered, jest you go to heatin’ and 
abusin’ one of that kind and see if some- 
thing don’t get broke right away quick.” 

"That’s rather a rough simile,” said the 
preacher, "but I don’t know but what it is 
somewhere near the truth.” 

"Course it is near the truth; it’s right at 
it. Now Mary might go through life with- 
out anybody ever knowin’ the spirit there 
is in that girl, if she wasn’t misused. But 
if she really was, she’d know it and I’m 
inclined to think that you couldn’t strike 
that steel without some sparks a-flyin.’” 

"The great poet has said that, ‘Hell 
hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ ” said 
Mr. Ellery, "though I rather think that 
passage would be considered a good ex- 
ample of hyperbole; an exaggeration of the 
truth." 

"Kind of a high example you think? 
Well I’d know if I was that mean that I 
really did deserve to be scorned by Mary 
Grafton, I’d rather see the devil than 
have her tell me what she thought of me.” 

The shoe was soon reset and Mr. Ellery 
was rather giad to seize the opportunity to 
break off a conversation which it occurred 
to him was becoming rather too personal in 
its nature. 

The unexpected visit of Mr. Maitland to 
Kansas, the interest shown by him in Mary 
Grafton and the circumstances which had 
conspired, by prior arrangement, to throw 
them together at Mr. Ellery’s formed a 


topic which was strangely interesting to 
all. Busteed had early interviewed Mr! 
Ellery regarding the reported wealth of 
the stranger and had queried whether it 
would be possible to induce him to invest 
in Plainville property, or whether he could 
influence the sending out of "cheap 
money” to his bank, which could be re- 
loaned by him at heavier rates. 

Mr. Ellery explained that Maitland was 
a student of men and things, that he was 
dependent for a support upon his father 
who was a manufacturer of cotton in a 
Massachusetts town and not a loaner of 
money. Busteed however, could not un- 
derstand why he should be traveling over 
the country, unless he was looking for a 
place to exercise his calling as a preacher, 
or had an eye open to "the main chance.” 
That a man should travel merely with the 
idea of studying nature and human nature 
was something beyond his comprehension. 

People generally in the village with 
whom Maitland had come in contact re- 
garded him as a very companionable sort 
of a man and a very good kind of a man 
indeed — for a preacher. Preachers, how- 
ever, for the most part, were regarded as 
lacking in those very indeflnable qualities 
which they summed up under the head of 
“manhood.” Of course they were well 
enough, in their way, but that as a class they 
were lacking in a very important element 
of character, was quite generally conceded 
by implication and general understanding. 
This general agreement was never obtrus- 
ively stated in words, siill the fact was ap- 
parent in the daily life of the community. 
It was felt that in the services of the church 
and at "sociables,” festivals and in the di- 
rection of Sunday schools and the like that 
the preacher could not be spaced; that was 
his place; but in the real life and business 
of the world which employed six-sevenths 
of their time and ninety-nine hundredths 
of their thoughts he had no place what- 
ever. In fact it was felt that his advice 
upon important matters, outside of his 


82 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


special department, was in the nature of an 
impertinence not to be endured. They 
were willing to listen to doctrines, embel- 
lished with scriptural quotations, but they 
must not be applied to the lives of people 
now on earth, unless they lived at a re- 
mote distance from the speaker and his 
hearers. It was felt rather than stated 
that the preachers didn’t dare tell their 
congregation just what they thought of 
them and their conduct in the daily busi- 
ness of life. The congregation on its part 
feeling the force of this and the lack of 
moral courage which prompted it, could 
not fail to see that that supreme quality in 
man, respected in all and by all, was very 
conspicuous by reason of its absence in the 
characters of a very large number of those 
who were called upon to declare the whole 
counsel of God. 

That Maitland should remain in Plain- 
ville seemed to the inhabitants of that vil- 
lage the most natural thing in the world. 
Where would he find a nicer little village 
than theirs, or where could he find a 
pleasanter place than the house of Mr. 
Ellery for a visit, with its kind and mother- 
ly hostess and most attractive occupant. 
That his visit would have been sooner con- 
cluded had he not met Mary, was begin- 
ning to dawn upon Maitland’s own compre- 
hension, still he was not aware that so deep 
an impression had been made upon him- 
self as to the Ellerys appeared manifest. 
He was interested in Miss Grafton, he was 
willing to acknowledge that to himself, and 
he thought that if she could only abandon 
what he was disposed to regard as some 
very peculiar views, that she would then be 
quite well informed and mentally well fur- 
nished. As it was, the holding of these 
views, so strenuously as she did, made 
quite an unfavorable impression upon him. 
Mary, upon her part, held much the same 
view of the character of the young 
preacher. If he could only change his no- 
tions regarding economic matters and 
adopt what she regarded as correct views, 


he would then be in position to be of great 
service in the world. Each had endeavored 
to convince the other of error and in their 
frequent discussions the apparent advan- 
tage had nearly always been with Mary 
because she spoke of what she was familiar 
with, while Maitland having never given 
special attention to matters of that sort was 
but poorly prepared for an argument. 

One day, after he had stated at some 
length his peculiar opinions, Mary said: 

"You know, Mr. Maitland, that the law 
of Heaven as proclaimed to Adam and Eve, 
when they were shut out from Paradise 
was the law of labor — Tn the sweat of thy 
face shalt thou eat bread.’ That, I take 
it applies to all mankind. All must labor 
or render acceptable service and the laws 
of nature enforce the command. Some, 
however, escape, but no one escapes, or 
ever has escaped, without throwing the 
burden of the labor thus evaded upon the 
shoulders of others. Now in your own in- 
dividual case your father has saved you 
the necessity of labor, so far at least, 
but upon whom has the burden of your 
life been placed if not upon the operatives 
whom he employs? The profits of their 
labor, which he has been enabled to absorb, 
form the support upon which 3'ou depend. 
You do not labor because an extra share 
has been imposed upon them.” 

"What you say,” said he, "no doubt is 
true in a certain sense, but you must re- 
member that society with all its vast gains 
and improvements exists upon a basis 
which the literal carrying out of your 
opinions would destroy. All progress, all 
improvement in the future depend upon 
the further spread of a civilization which 
you would make impossible. If all labored, 
no time would be left for thought and 
mental advance. Where all are equally 
poor, in time all become equally ignorant; 
leisure to think and plan is the very first 
step in the march to progress. , Your 
thought, allow me to say, is crude, in that 
it subordinates the higher to the lower. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Society has a right to exist, if it stands for 
the final advancement of mankind, as I be- 
lieve it does, and this being the case what- 
ever is absolutely essential to this advance 
must be defended against the assaults of 
those who would only destroy without sup- 
plying anything but mere savagery and 
brutism to take its place.” 

“You have undertaken Mr. Maitland, as 
a preacher, to take up your cross and fol- 
low Christ. Following Christ I take to 
mean a service of the truth, to follow 
wherever it leads. The disciples had 
promised to follow Christ and so they did 
up to the time of his arrest. Peter es- 
pecially had vehemently announced that he 
would follow though all should forsake 
him, but when he saw the Saviour appre- 
hended and in the custody of the soldiers, 
he too began to think of the rights of so- 
ciety, and when one of the maids came into 
the outer court and saw him there, she 
said ‘And thou also wast with Jesus of 
Galilee,’ but he denied; social forms, ‘law 
and order’ must be preserved even though 
Christ died. Peter was willing to follow 
until he came in contact with the law and 
the soldiers. You are willing to follow 
until you come up against the labor ques. 
tion, then you deny that simple truth is to 
be followed and take refuge in generalities 
and the rights of society which when in- 
quired into seem to be the right of the 
strong to impose themselves and their im- 
provement upon those weaker brethren 
who appear unable to help themselves. 
The essence of all this is simple selfishness 
the very opposite of the spirit of true 
Christianity .and impossible of defence. 
Civilization will take care of itself, it will 
not perish; let us do right! Surely the 
self-styled upper classes have no right to 
exist by defrauding the poor and the 
weak.” 

“In the decision of any matter involving 
a question of right and wrong,” said Mait- 
land, “we are obliged to take into account 
the character of the people who make 


83 

answer. In a question of morals, moral 
men would make one answer, immoral men 
another. This is a question of right and 
wrong and in seeking an answer we can do 
no better than to follow the lead of the 
church. What it condemns we may con- 
sider as against the better judgment of 
mankind; what it allows we are somewhat 
arrogant in opposing.” 

“The church has so often been at fault,” 
said Mary, “it seems scarcely necessary to 
call attention to its extreme fallibility, but 
I have at hand so marked an instance of 
this that please allow me to read. As the 
church has often been opposed to the prin- 
ciples of human brotherhood taught by 
Jesus, it is not at all strange to find it now 
upon the side of the oppressor.” 

Taking a book from the table she read as 
follows; 

“It is less than two centuries since seven 
men of the highest standing, a majority of 
whom were reverend gentlemen, clergy- 
men, as good and pious men as ever lived, 
as exemplary in every relation of life as it 
was possible for men to be, sat in a so-called 
court of justice, each morning session 
whereof was opened with fervent prayer to 
the divine source of all knowledge, grace 
and power, to direct the actions of his 
servants as the judges of that court; and in 
that court were arraigned day after day 
poor, miserable broken down superstitious 
women and children upon the accusation 
that they had commerce with the devil and 
used his power as a means of spite upon 
their neighbors, and as one of the means 
of inflicting torture because thereof the 
devil had empowered these poor creatures 
to shoot common house pins from a dis- 
tance into the flesh of their neighbors’ 
child 'en, by which they were greatly 
afflicted. Being put to the bar to be tried, 
they were not allowed counsel. The de- 
luded creatures sometimes pleaded guilty, 
and sometimes not guilty, but in either 
event they were found guilty and ex- 
ecuted, and the pins which were produced 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


84 

in evidence, can now be seen among the 
records of that court, in the court house of 
the county of Essex, Massachusetts! 

“And beyond all this that court enforced, 
worse than the tortures of the inquisition, 
dreadful wrongs upon a prisoner in order 
to accomplish his conviction. Giles Cory 
was an old man, eighty years of age. He 
had a daughter some forty years of age, 
simple-minded, not able to earn her own 
living, and a small farm, a piece of land 
and a house thereon, which he hoped to 
leave to his daughter at his then impending 
death Giles was accused of being a 
wizard. His life had been blameless in 
everything except his supposed commerce 
with the devil. Upon ex parte testimony 
he was indicted for this too great intimacy 
with the evil one and sent to the bar to 
be tried for his life. 

“Giles knew that if he pleaded not guilty 
he was sure to be convicted, and if he 
pleaded guilty he would be sentenced to 
death, and in either case the farm would 
be forfeited to the king. But if he did not 
plead at all — such was the law — then he 
could not be tried at all, and his property 
could not be forfeited to the king and 
taken from his daughter. So Giles stood 
mute and put the court at defiance. 

“And then that court of pious clergymen 
resorted to a method to make him plead 
which had not been in practice in England 
for 200 years and never here, and poor 
Giles was taken and laid on the ground by 
the side of the court-house on his back, 
with the flashing sun burning his eyes and 
a single cup of water from the ditch of the 
jail with a crust of bread was given him 
once in twenty-four hours, and weights 
were placed upon his body until at last the 
life was crushed out of him, but not the 
father’s love for his child. He died, but 
not until his parched tongue protruded 
from the old man’s fevered mouth. It was 
thrust back by the chief justice with his 
cane. The cherished daughter inher- 
ited.” 


CHAPTER XXI. — STUDIES. 

H oping for change, one may trav- 
el far only to find that he himself 
has not been left behind. That 
perception which makes for us, facts, opin- 
ions and circumstances, has not been ed- 
ucated or reformed by mere removal. 

As with all, Maitland had been the crea- 
tion of heredity and environment. Two 
centuries of puritanic ancestry was behind 
him, and when first he lay, faintly breath- 
ing in his mother’s arms, he represented 
the possibility only, of what that had been. 
It is not only in Genesis and among inferior 
animals that young are brought forth, 
“after their kind,” it is a fact of universal 
and absolute applicaiion. But although 
birth is the chiefest factor in the creation 
of man it is but one of three; 

The child becomes an independent soul, 
is like the tender plant which trustingly 
spreads its little arms to every sweet influ- 
ence; the recipient of every look and nod 
of the sun and the glad participant in every 
joyous thought of the Summer days. 

As readily is it injured too, by the rude 
storms of Winter or the ruder hand of 
man. It has no will of its own. The plant 
became a plant and the child is of the 
genus homo through no thought of either. 
And as the child is perforce a child, so its 
region and race are imposed upon it. The 
breezes that shall blow are not chosen by 
it, but for it. Its companions, its sur- 
roundings, the influences which taken to- 
gether form, in youth, its bent, trend and 
tenor of mind are exterior to itself and in 
no wise the result of its choice. As yet it 
has no choice. 

By and by choice and taste begin to 
form themselves and like the infant in a 
new found world reach toward that which 
to them is attractive. Then for the first 
time awakes from within, the third force 
in the creation of man. The knowledge of 
good and evil is come to him. But it finds 
him so bent and cramped by facts of birth 
and warped by accidents of surrounding 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


that the wonder is that the interior man 
should ever master the labyrinth of whims 
and passions, taints and prejudices which 
birth and environment have created for 
his occupancy. Escape is impossible. 
With them he must remain. And as the 
years go by, the interior man develops and 
enlarges or shrinks and fades away. He 
conquers or is conquered. 

With Maitland the fight was on. He be- 
gan, in some faint measure to see himself 
as he existed, and with this view he was 
dissatisfied. The pedant and the fop are 
pleased with their personalities. The wise 
man beholds himself as a bundle of crudi- 
ties and prejudices from which he fain 
would emerge. 

Added to the mental struggle, which be- 
ginning with him in doubt of certain tenets 
of a religious faith, was now leading him 
to review from the beginning the whole 
groundwork of the duty of man, was the 
newer complication of an awakening love. 
Neither birth or breeding nor the lack of 
them, can hide the superior soul. It looks 
calmly forth from the e3'es of man or 
woman, in whatever station found and 
without demanding receives the homage of 
kindred spirits. Never before had he 
been so torn by conflicting emotions. 
Rights, duties, hopes and fears took on 
new shapes and new thoughts arose. He 
found in Mary Grafton a something which 
he could not define, an attraction which he 
could not understand, and as he queried 
with himself regarding it, he awoke to the 
fact that disguise it as he might, the in- 
fluence which she exerted caused him ever 
to strive for the higher expression of him- 
self for which his own better moments 
longed. There seemed in her presence a 
stimulation to which heretofore he had 
been a stranger. That this was true he 
could not deny and yet how it came about 
he could not comprehend. That a country 
girl, with but two years experience of life 
away from her modest home, and those 
years passed in a subordinate capacity; 


85 

self-taught, the pupil only of a father 
whose own education was limited, should 
question the existence, off hand, of the 
very things he had begun only after years 
of scrutinj’^ to doubt, amazed him. And 
yet every manifestation of her thought 
was reverent and tended toward final good, 
to which she looked forward with calm and 
perfect confidence. He could not fail to 
love her for this. Did he love her for 
herself? Deeply questioned, his heart re- 
turned but one reply. But, as he thought 
difficulties arose and ranged themselves in 
threatening ranks. Their opinions seemed 
ever to jar; the end desired was agreed 
upon but the means to be used in attain- 
ment divided them. Several times he had 
been upon the point of declaring himself 
in sentimental terms but as if warned by 
an unknown power she had kept him at 
bay. Did she in this manner conceal a 
tender regard? Why was it that with him 
she showed none of that tenderness and 
depth of feeling so abundantly manifested 
toward others? Might it be possible that 
she divined the shallowness and lack of 
mental furnishing of which he sometimes 
accused himself? Could he win her love? 

Strange as he thought it, he was obliged 
to confess to himself that he feared to 
make the attempt. He had never detected 
in her manner anything which would en- 
courage him to make an avowal, and al- 
though he told himself again and again 
that a woman of spirit would quite natur- 
ally demand that she be won in bald and 
chivalrous fashion and would shun the ap- 
pearance of falling unresistingly into the 
arms of any man, still he put off from da}" 
to day what he gradually came to think 
must be done. And as this feeling 
strengthened he came more and more to 
see that her life was the proper comple- 
ment of his own. With her he should 
improve. There was that dissimilarity of 
character between them which united 
would form a perfect whole. Each could 
assist the other, and if he could make for 


-/ 


86 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


himself that slumbering tenderness which 
he knew existed in her, Ah, that would be 
happiness indeed. Still strive as he would, 
and did, to find opportunity for the ex- 
pression of the tender passion, she was 
ever apparently on guard and with clear, 
wide open eyes and collected manner made 
it impossible for him to speak except in the 
plainest terms and without assistance from 
her. 

What was to be done? He was ashamed 
of himself, of the length of his visit, of his 
lack of courage and fairly ashamed too, of 
the shame he felt, and began to wonder 
whether his friends, the Ellerys, might 
not be ashamed of him also. 

Several times he had planned to speak 
to Mary upon the subject nearest his heart 
but each time something had occurred to 
prevent. At last nerved by desperation 
he gave out that on the morrow he would 
take his departure for California. As yet 
he had never been able to declare himself, 
but realizing that indecision itself had al- 
ready reached its climax, he resolved to 
tempt his fate as became, what he had 
come to think himself, a very sheepish 
sort of man. 

That evening, finding himself alone in 
the parlor with Mary, the latter made 
some excuse to depart and had already 
nearly reached the door when he found 
tongue to say: 

"Wait a moment, Mary, I really have 
something to say to you.” 

Mary had by this time reached the door 
and stood expectantly waiting, with one 
hand upon the door knob. 

"You must have seen that my regard for 
you is something more than the ordinary 
respect which a gentleman may have for a 
lady, ’ said he, coming towards her. 

Releasing her hold upon the door, Mary 
immediately seated herself upon a chair, 
and waving her hand towards another, 
Maitland was forced to do the same. 

"In short,” said he, "I wish to make an 
avowal. I have long loved you— at least it 


seems a long time — and although you have 
never given me an encouraging look, I can 
but hope that you will now look encourag- 
ingly upon me. Will you marry me?” 

For a moment her eyes sought the floor 
and Maitland continued: 

"You don’t know how sincere I am in 
this matter — you can’t know that — and yet 
my hopes are bound up in your answer. I 
have never met anyone whom I could so 
completely love and reverence as I do you. 
And—” 

"Mr. Maitland,” said Mary, "you cer- 
tainly have honored me by your proposal 
and I thank you for the preference shown, 
but your own good sense, will upon second 
thought, show you plainly that in this you 
have made a mistake. You have been in 
exile, almost, for some time past and being 
thrown much in my company of late, you 
have been moved to make an avowal of 
love. I must say firmly and plainly that 
what you ask cannot be. I have certain 
duties to my father and little brother which 
I cannot relinquish and even though — ” 

Maitland would have interrupted her, 
but she continued: 

"Please hear me through because this is 
a subject which must not be reopened; 
even though these objections could be re- 
moved, although I do not think it possible 
still there are other and even more insur- 
mountable ones which would prevent. 
Consider the difference in our lives, how 
unlike they are and have been and must be 
in the future.” 

"Miss Grafton,” said he, "perhaps I 
have been too rash in speaking so soon as 
I have, although I have charged myself 
with cowardice in not speaking before, 
still you will not utterly refuse me. I am 
an honorable man, no person can say 
aught against my character and I love you. 
If I am not positively disagreeable to you, 
don’t cast me off; give me leave to hope. I 
am going to California. I may not remain 
there long. Only say that your refusal is 
not absolute and final.” 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


“I prefer," said she, speaking very 
slowly and with evident feeling, ‘ not to 
discuss this matter further. What I have 
said is my final answer. We have been very 
good friends and I hope our frienasnip will 
not beinterrupted." 

Just at this juncture, Mrs. Ellery, not 
suspecting that she was interrupting, came 
into the room and made an inquiry regard' 
ing Mr. Maitland’s departure, which being 
answered, she, probably suspecting from 
the appearance of the “young folks" that 
matters of moment were under discussion, 
immediately retired. 

“My father writes me," said Mary, 
“that he is having most encouraging suc- 
cess wherever he goes. All seem to ap- 
prove the plan which he — and I— have so 
much at heart, and I do hope Mr. Mait- 
land, that you will see when you have more 
fully examined into it that he is as fully doing 
what you preachers are wont to call ‘the 
Lord’s work,’ and that he is as thoroughly 
devoted to the welfare of his fellowmen as 
any knight or martyr of old could be or 
ever was. My father is a grand man, a 
true man, his moral courage is sublime and 
although poor and almost unknown, I 
would rather share his lot and fate what- 
ever it may be, than to wear a coronet to 
which I was not entitled or live upon the 
wealth for which others had toiled and 
spent days and nights of grevious sorrow." 

Mary’s eyes filled with tears but her 
voice did not falter as she continued: “My- 
self and little brother are all that is left to 
my father; we form the tie which binds 
him to life. He is not demonstrative, but 
a truer heart never beat. For us he would 
sacrifice, has sacrificed, ease and comfort 
and I will never forsake him or follow any 
course which might cause him to feel that 
in his old age he was neglected or for- 
saken. He has plans that are far-reaching 
and from their success we hope for much 
pf good. These plans and the hopes which 
they have inspired, have taken complete 
possession of him and in the work which 


87 

he has undertaken he is wholly enlisted, 
with an earnest desire to benefit his fellows. 
What higher motive, Mr. Maitland, can 
actuate the human soul?” 

CHAPTER XXIL — PROGRESS OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

E ven in Plainville, sleepy village 
that it was, the days flew wearily 
by; event followed hard upon event 
and even the leaden footed hours could not 
stay the march of time. 

Time flies, we say, but is it not true that 
time remains? 

We pass away, but Nature is ever young, 
ever sweet and fair she woes us with the 
grace and charm of unchanging youth. 
Time is. It does not flee, but ever remains 
the great eternal and invisible fact whose 
beginning and ending are alike incompre- 
hensible to mortal man. Eternity is not 
some far away thought of man, whose be- 
ginning comes with the close of our brief 
span of life. It is the now we know and 
like Deity itself enfolds every changing 
scene and passing hour and is yet itself 
unmoved and immovable. Change is writ- 
ten upon all created things but time and 
space are uncreated and eternal attributes 
of that vast Power in whom are all things 
and by whom we alone exist. 

We seem to be in the middle of the ages 
with uncounted years stretching their 
slowly dissolving lengths behind us, while 
before, the cavernous abyss of an unknown 
future is veiled from sight, Man trembles 
from the very grandeur of his position. 

Whence came he? Is he alone, a fresh 
and original creation? Around him the 
forms of matter exist in changing shapes, 
the inheritors of creations which preceded 
them. The comet with its gaseous train 
shows us the process of world building; 
itself the aggregation of pre-existent mat- 
ter. At last, solidified and re-formed it 
takes its place in the retinue of worlds and 
when vast cycles are fully completed and 
firm set earth appears, it becomes the home 
of life and days and nights of joy for it begin. 


88 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Still is it all, but the re-formation of what 
knew no creation. To time and space 
must be added the eternity of matter. 

But these are inferior forces. Above 
them all is the eternal thought. As the 
thought of man controls in a mysterious 
way the movement of his arm, so the 
thought of the enfolding Spirit moves upon 
time, space and matter and they obey, and 
the awakened eyes of man behold as a 
truth, needing no demonstration, the im- 
mutability and eternity of that primal es- 
sence which breathing upon the face of 
the great deep made possible that condi- 
tion which we call life. Spirit and Matter, 
Time and Space, these are the sole eternals 
and immutables which, never beginning, 
shall never end. 

And as man, as we know him, is the 
combination of Spirit and Matter, may he 
not have existed in previous shapes and 
forms, to us now unknown? And when at 
last, rising in the scale of being, he shall 
be able to know even as he is known, may 
he not be able to trace his course adown 
the endless vistas of time to that single, 
yet multitudinous Force, the great and 
only One? 


Maitland had departed rather sorrow- 
fully and with evident regret. Somehow 
the man had undergone a change and a 
troubled look had settled upon his face as 
he bade farewell to the friends he had 
made. Mary gave him no opportunity for 
the private interview which he had in- 
wardly hoped to secure. More grave and 
reserved than usual she still quite cordially 
took his hand in parting while he found 
opportunity to say: 

“May I write?” 

“Certainly,” said she, “I shall be pleased 
to hear from you, wherever you go.” 

“But will you answer?” 

“Yes, I surely could not refuse.” 

That was all; the train moved off and 
Mr. and Mrs. Ellery and Mary, who were 
at the depot to see him off, slowly retraced 


their steps toward their home. The house 
looked lonesome and forsaken as they ap- 
proached. Entering, they removed their 
wraps and sat down. They looked at one 
another for a moment in silence. 

“Really seems almost like a funeral,” 
said Mr. Eller}^ glancing, as he spoke, at 
Mary. 

“Mr. Maitland was such a cheery, genial 
fellow that I almost fell in love with him 
myself,” said Mrs. Ellery, as she too 
looked at Mary. 

Mary made no reply but hastily gather- 
ing up her shawl and bonnet went at once 
to her room. When she had gone Mr. 
Ellery said: “Did George offer himself, do 
you think?” 

“I think he did,” said Mrs. Ellery quite 
cautiously, “but I am not sure. Evidently 
there was something which occurred to 
change the current of feeling between 
them. They both took great pleasure in 
the conversations which they were con- 
stantly holding whenever opportunity of- 
fered, almost to the last. I think, how- 
ever, that I interrupted conversation of a 
peculiar kind yesterday. Atterward both 
were quite shy and reserved.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Ellery, “it is some- 
thing with which we have no right to in- 
terfere.” 

“Oh, no,” said she, “not for the world. 
They must be free to act for themselves. 
I did think though that they were made for 
each other.” 

Gradually affairs took on their wonted 
and rather monotonous appearance in 
Plainville. Mary went daily to her classes 
accompanied by Charlie, who was one of 
her pupils, and the village gradually came 
to forget the fine looking preacher who had 
been for a time the center of attraction and 
the subject of conversation, 

Mr. Grafton was heard of from week to 
week as he pursued his work, and tidings 
came that he and the other “lecturers” 
who had been dispatched on the same 
errand were meeting with great success in 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Ihe work of inducing united action on the 
part of the farmers’ organizations. The 
effort thus made had for its end the adop- 
tion of certain “demands” by the farmers, 
to which they were to commit themselves. 
Political animosities with them, took on so 
great a virulence that it was impossible to 
advocate the claims of one party without 
securing the hatred and lasting dislike of 
all opposing factions and the attempt was 
made to inculcate a course of action within 
the limits of all the existing political par- 
ties and nO'favoritism was to be shown to 
either or any. Certain so-called demands 
were formulated and printed and kept con- 
stantly before the farmers and advocated 
at their meetings and it was agreed that no 
general movement embracing the carrying 
out of the demands should be entered upon 
until a practical unanimity had been 
reached. Grafton and the other lecturers 
had been sent during the Fall to every 
county seat in the State and in each county 
the numbers of those who favored and 
those who opposed were carefully kept 
upon record and sent to the State head- 
quarters. 

The plan included the presentation of a 
printed copy of the “demands” to every 
candidate of all the different political 
parties, which he was to be asked to sign, 
by a committee sent from the farmers and 
it was agreed that no member would vote 
for a candidate for any office whatever, 
unless he would pledge himself in writing 
to use his utmost exertions at all times 
and places, and in every manner, to se- 
cure the passage of the laws demanded. 

As there had, been no attempt to inter- 
fere with the political predilections or 
prejudices of any, and as the demands 
were purposely limited in number and did 
not interfere in any wise with the party 
creeds there had been little difficulty in 
securing almost unanimous consent on the 
part of the farmers. 

Knowledge of the stand taken being con- 
veyed through the proper channels to the 


Board of Control of the State, that body 
very cautiously issued its “recommenda- 
tion,” which, reciting the fact that a sub- 
stantial agreement having been reached 
regarding a course of action it was recom- 
mended that pledges be taken in writing 
from all candidates for office and that so 
so far as practicable the election of men of 
character and moral standing be secured 
in each county, pledged to carry out the 
wishes of the electors. 

As the canvass proceeded it was found 
that in counties where the farmers were 
in the majority that there was no trouble 
in securing the signatures of candidates 
representing all the political parties to the 
pledges as presented and in other locali- 
ties, although a furious newspaper tirade 
was kept up, upon the part of certain 
sheets suspected of unfriendliness to the 
farmer’s interests, no effort was made to 
interfere in any manner with the attempt 
upon the part of the voters to secure rep- 
resentatives who would endeavor honestly 
to assist in the work of lifting from the 
farmer the burdens which were taking 
from him the means of living and grad- 
ually reducing him to indigence and pov- 
erty. It began to dawn upon the minds of 
thinking citizens that in a state almost 
solely dependent upon agriculture and 
stock raising that if the farmers were in 
such straits as they themselves declared 
existed, it would be the part of prudence 
and wisdom to heed their warnings and 
take such s eps as might result in amelior- 
ating their condition, and with this end in . 
view certain public-spirited citizens in sev- 
eral counties made investigation of the 
amount of indebtedness, both public and 
private, which rested upon the inhabitants 
of the different townships of their coun- 
ties, with the annual interest charges upon 
the same. A careful estimate was also 
made of the total crops raised in the same 
territory and the price which could be ob- 
tained for the same; from this was de- 
ducted the annual cost of living and keep 


I 


90 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD, 


of necessary stock with cost of seed, etc., 
etc., and although these exhibits were not 
made public it had the effect of raising up 
for the farmer’s cause powerful advocates, 
who proclaimed with both tongue and pen 
the absolute necessity of radical measures 
for the relief of the farmers from the re- 
sults of a combination of circumstances, 
not the result of their own wrong doing. 

As a consequence of this condition of 
affairs the election which followed in 
November, 189 — resulted in a tremendous 
majoritj’ for the plan of campaign as pro- 
mulgated by the farmers in their demands. 
Here and there attempts were made to 
“count ut” candidates who had been 
prominent in espousing what by this time 
was seen to be the cause of the whole peo- 
ple, but these attempts were quickly frus- 
trated, for it began to be seen that unless 
the farmers were at least moderately pros- 
perous that it would be impossible for 
either merchants, lawyers or doctors, or 
even bankers to live among them, since 
thej all depended upon them either direct- 
ly or indirectly and it was remembered 
that in the past, the time in which the far- 
mers were prosperous had always been the 
time of prosperity to all, including the 
professional classes. 

As the feeling began to be openly ex- 
pressed by men of all classes that in a 
State the interest of one should be the 
interest of all, and that no policy 
which bore hardly upon one class, and 
that the greatest in point of numbers and 
importance, could long be pursued without 
involving the final ruin of all, a great 
change in public sentiment and feeling be- 
gan to be manifested and here and there 
men of brilliant and commanding abilities 
allied themselves with the farmers and in 
public addresses, which were quickly spread 
broadcast over the State, announced them- 
selves as converted to the necessity of 
radical measures of reform. 

That men are like sheep, in playing the 
game of “follow your leader” was once 


more exemplified in a surprising manner 
and all at once there appeared the greatest 
unanimity of feeling upon the questions 
which agitated the public mind. In fact 
it began to be difficult to find a man who 
would acknowledge that he had been at 
heart opposed to the farmer’s interests. 
The election occurring under auspices of 
this character made cei tain the return of 
a large majority favorable to the cause of 
radical reform and this for a time was the 
universally expressed sentiment of the 
State, If any had other feelings they 
wisely kept them to themselves. 

But after the furore of the election had 
subsided and men began to coolly survey 
the field and to think of the measures to be 
employed, a very natural difference of 
opinion regarding the proposed plan began 
to be manifested. And these differences, 
slight at first, and easily reconcilable, 
were magnified by the press, so that when 
the time of meeting of the State Legisla- 
ture had arrived, a heated controversy in 
the newspapers being kept up in the mean- 
time, two plainly discernible factions bad 
ranged themselves in opposing ranks. 

On the part of one it was said that while 
it was plain that something radical was 
needed and the advisability of some sort of 
a stay law was conceded, still the abolition 
of the collection of debts by law was 
furiously opposed, and an attempt was 
made to show that this would involve the 
utter prostration of business and take from 
the poor and industrious man the power of 
obtaining credit, with which he might be 
able to accumulate a competency. It was 
noticed that the advocates of this view, 
although they spoke only of the poor man 
and the evils which would fall upon his 
head by the action of the proposed legisla- 
tion, consisted almost entirely of lawyers 
and men who were interested, either 
directly or indirectly, in loaning money, 
still they spoke earnestly and eloquently 
for the poor man and wished, so they said, 
to see him secure in all his rights and 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


91 


privileges which the proposed legislation 
would plainly curtail. 

The other side stoutly maintained that 
debt was the great evil, the cause of untold 
misery and vastly superior to intoxicating 
drink as a cause of poverty and crime, and 
they quoted from statistics at great length 
which, so they said, showed that in a gen- 
eral way crime was committed in direct 
proportion to the misery, ignorance and 
poverty of the people. That the ability to 
get into debt was an imaginary advantage 
and an actual and positive disadvantage to 
every honest man. “Pay as you go,” said 
they, “is the philosopher’s stone which 
turns all to gold." They showed that by 
actual experience short credits would not 
be interfered with, as they were made upon 
the honor of the debtor at that time, and 
would so continue. They also showed that 
while under laws then existing it might be 
possible for a man in comfortable circum- 
stances to adopt for himself the plan of 
cash payments, the organization of society 
under the plan of universal debt, made it 
nearly impossible for the man already in 
the meshes of circumstances to do this, 
and, said they, if society generally is in- 
volved and depressed by the operation of 
laws and customs, indirectly all must suffer 
and in the long run the general public 
prosperity and happiness will be gradually 
reduced to a lower and still lower level. 


CHAPTER XXIII. — AFTER THE ELECTION, 

A THIRD faction also began to de- 
velop, composed of those who claimed 
that the proposed abolition of the col- 
lection of debt by law was too sweeping in its 
effects. Their claim was to the effect that a 
provision should be made for the benefit of 
those who sold real estate to people who 
desired to secure a home. Every family, 
said they, ought to possess a home of its 
own, and in order that the process of home 
acquirement might be facilitated and peo- 
ple be enabled to buy, who had not the 
means to pay down the full amount of pur- 


chase money, it would be necessary for 
them to secure in some way the owners of 
land, otherwise they would refuse to sell. 
No man, they said, who owned land would 
part with it unless he was paid in full, or 
was given good security for the deferred 
payments, and as tlie poor man who bought 
could only give good security upon the 
land, it would be of advantage to all 
classes, including both buyers and sellers, 
that some provision of law be made secur- 
ing the collection of this class of debts. 
This faction claimed to favor the proposed 
legislation in the main, but it was noticed 
that those who advocated this view did not 
represent the poor home-seekers, although 
they claimed to speak for them. 

In this way the fruits of the great vic- 
tory, which it was thought had been se- 
cured by the election in November, began 
to have the appearance of being frittered 
away as people ranged themselves upon 
one side or the other of the various shades 
of opinion which the situation gave rise to. 
As usual that class of people who are by 
nature compromisers, took a hand in the 
general discussion going on all over the 
State. The people who are ever ready to 
decide questions by giving half to either 
side’ and who when called upon to decide 
between white and black, invariably say 
that gray is a superior color to either, and 
that ■'he adherents of both white and black 
should not hesitate to accept gray as a 
compromise, since it is made by a blending 
of both colors, put forth their plan, which 
was mainly that the buyers of land could 
make partial payments upon land, the 
title to remain in the seller until fully paid 
for, the buyer to accept a bond for a deed 
as security for the money paid; money so 
paid to be and remain a first lien upon the 
land bought. 

During the two months which elapsed 
between the election and the meeting of 
the legislature, if one had judged the 
temper of the public mind by reading the 
partisan and political newspapers published 


92 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


in the State, he would certainly have con- 
cluded that discord and confusion reigned. 
Two things, however, operated to prevent 
the minds of the farmers from being di- 
verted to any great extent from the origin- 
ally expressed purposes of the campaign. 
The greatest, of course, was the thorough 
discussion of the questions at stake among 
the farmers, which had preceded the elec- 
tion, their organizations holding solidly to 
their original demands and very generally 
refusing all overtures of compromise upon 
the very moderate measures upon which 
they had at first agreed. It began once 
more to be seen, as has been the case 
throughout the history of the world, that 
although tillers of the soil are usually very 
slow to accept changes in their manner of 
thought, still when they have once thor- 
oughly made up their minds they are not 
easily diverted from the execution of their 
plans. 

The other reason was that the opposition 
which had apparently been lost sight of at 
the time of the election, could not quite 
conceal the fact that they were now en- 
deavoring to prevent the success of the 
people’s cause by the policy of dividing 
what they had failed to conquer when 
united. The character and known inter- 
ests of the advocates who were industri- 
ously seeking to create divisions appeared 
too plainly upon the surface for effectual 
concealment. 

Although feeling ran high and a sub- 
dued excitement had taken possession of 
the whole body of citizens, the great and 
distinguishing excellence of the American 
people, accustomed as they had been to 
decide all questions in a public capacity, 
became manifest to all. No disturbance 
of any moment took place and the great- 
est good nature prevailed in all public as- 
semblies upon the part of all participants. 

Although the partisan press still kept up 
its weekly fusilade, it began to be noticed 
that the public deliverances of the farmer’s 
organizations at their meetings and in the 


papers championing their cause showed no 
material change in sentiment or expression. 
Replying to the compromisers, they showed 
most conclusively that any attempt to 
change their plans by substituting a plan 
for the purchase of homes by the creation 
of debts would inevitably result in deliv- 
ering the home purchaser into the hands 
of the dealers in money: that the buyer of 
land under the proposed plan, in case he 
failed to pay in full, would be subjected to 
the pains and penalties of a suit at law, to 
obtain from the party of whom he had 
bought, the money he had advanced, and 
that it was far better for a man to be en- 
tirely free from debt, with some money in 
the bank, than to be the holder of land 
which somebody else really owned. It 
was acknowledged by them that in any 
radical change some hardships would in- 
evitably have to be endured, but that the 
entire freedom from debt and consequent 
deliverance of a people from its galling 
chains, and the domination which it neces- 
sarily imposed, was a cause which fully 
justified any effort which might be made 
to escape what was clearly seen as the 
great evil of the time. 

Thus matters stood at the time of the in- 
auguration of the new State administration 
and a general feeling of expectancy, not 
unmixed with alarm on the part of so- 
called conservative citizens, held posses- 
sion of the public mind. 

The inauguration of Governor Clover 
took place, as usual, in the capitol at 
Topeka and was unattended by anything 
unusual beyond the deep feeling of anx- 
iety, which appeared to take possession of 
tiie masses of people that crowded the Hall 
of Representatives almost to the point of 
suffocation. 

As the governor elect came forward to 
take the oath of office he was seen to be a 
stout, well-built man of open countenance 
and ruddy complexion, some fifty years of 
age, who though somewhat agitated by the 
weighty responsibilities of the hour, was 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


yet master of himself and of the situation 
in which he was placed by the suffrages of 
the electors of Kansas. The ceremony 
having been quickly concluded, he stepped 
to the front and producing a roll of manu- 
script began the reading of his inaugural 
address as follows; 

“Fellow Citizens of Kansas, impressed as 
I am at this hour with the solemn and 
weighty responsibilities of my present 
position, I should not do justice to you, nor 
to myself if I failed to acknowledge in a 
fitting and suitable manner my dependence 
upon the Supreme Arbiter of events. Ap- 
pealing to Him and to that innate sense of 
justice which inhabits the breasts of honest 
men, the people whom I represent in an 
ofi&cial capacity have declared their un- 
alterable opposition to anything which 
may militate against the truest interests of 
the whole people of the State of Kansas. 
The interest of no class of citizens, even 
though that class should represent a ma- 
jority of its people, should be fostered or 
advanced, if thereby the just rights of any 
citizen be by such action imperiled or put 
in jeopardy. The history of the past has 
fully proved the power of majorities to 
work great injustice in their dealings with 
the few and the fear has been expressed 
that in the accession to power in this State 
of the present administration that measures 
might be adopted which would prove both 
injurious and unjust to the rights and 
privileges of some. 

"Fellow citizens of the Senate and House 
of Representatives, under these circum- 
stances it will be right and proper for us 
to declare in the most solemn manner our 
determination to be guided in the legisla- 
tion which may be effected by what the 
good Chancellor Kent has described as 
‘those fit and just rules of conduct which 
the Creator has prescribed to man as a de- 
pendent and social being, and which are to 
be ascertained by the deductions of right 
reason. Let us also remember that in the 
words of one of the greatest American 


93 

lawyers that' 'upon entering into society 
for the purpose of having their natural 
rights secured and protected or properly 
redressed, the few do not give up or sur- 
render any portion of their priceless herit- 
age in any government constituted as it 
should be.’ Let it be out duty, and pleas- 
ure as well, to secure to all, so far as we 
may be able, those inalienable rights to 
life, liberty and property, upon which de- 
pend our modern social life and business 
existence.” 

As the governor began the reading of 
his message the immense assemblage stood 
in silence and with most intense expectancy 
written upon their countenances. Gradu- 
ally the strained and anxious look gave 
way as his hearers glancing into the faces 
of those about them read the expressions 
of approval and satisfaction which began 
to be manifested there. Continuing, he 
took up, one after another, the questions 
which had so agitated the minds of the 
people of the State, and each in turn was 
so fairly and moderately stated and treated 
that when he had concluded the applause 
was most generous and unstinted. 

The assemblage slowly dispersed and the 
people composing it chatted pleasantly 
among themselves as they made their way 
out of the building; the general expression 
among the Topeka people being that the 
address was very good indeed for a 
“granger” and evinced some care in its 
preparation and altogether was somewhat 
satisfactory, being plainly intended to re- 
assure those who had feared destruction to 
the monied interests from the election of a 
plain farmer upon a platform which had 
asserted some of the usual platitudes on 
“the rights of labor." 

Among the country people present, as 
visitors and members of the legislature, 
the address was regarded as “just the 
thing." One of the members elect, who 
had collected a little knot of fellow legisla- 
tors around him in one of the corridors, 
declared to his interested listeners that: 


94 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


“Ben Clover was just as big a man as 
there was on the platlorm, for all the chief 
justice and his gold bowed spectacles. 
Talk about your education and polish! 
Mother-wit and natural good sense beats 
everything else, time a man gets to be 
forty years old.” 

“Then,” said he, “men fall out and fight 
because they don’t understand each other. 
One side means one thing by the use of a 
set of words and the other fellows mean 
something else and here they are at cross 
purposes before they know it, when if they 
only fully understood each other there 
wasn’t so much difference in ’em after all.” 

“Well, now,” said another, “what you 
say is all true enough, folks don’t under- 
stand each other, that’s a fact, and no 
doubt that is the cause of a great deal of 
trouble, but I want you to understand that 
there is something more than the diction- 
ary between the two sides that’s going to 
lock horns in this legislature before long.” 

“That’s all true enough too,” said the 
first, “but what I mean to say is that the 
honest men, the men who mean to do right 
and are disposed to do the fair thing, 
won’t haye much trouble in understanding 
each other once we get to work and talk 
things over. The trouble will come from 
fellows that’s hired to misrepresent and de- 
lay and rake up difiSculties and dig pits for 
the rest of us.” 

“That’s so,” broke in another, “and 
what makes the outlook bad is that these 
last fellows, who mean to make trouble, 
are keen, bright men who know the ropes 
and have a way of controlling the men 
they run with. Turn a lot of horses to- 
gether and there’ll be one among ’em that 
the rest will follow anywhere. Don’t seem 
to make much difference what kind of a 
horse it is; ten to one it’s a worthless old 
plug, but he can lead ’em, and it’s just so 
with men, they’ll follow after some scoun- 
drel and sure’s they do he’ll get ’em into a 
bad hole.” 

“I tell you Bill,” said the first speaker. 


“there’s where the good of organizations 
come in. Now if there is no organization, 
like the old alliance for instance, a lot of 
strange men, -thrown together for fifty 
days as the legislature is, would be hauled 
around by these black sheep leaders, but 
when honest well-intentioned men have an 
organization controlled by established 
principles, that sort of work gets a black 
eye right where it’ll do the most good. 
The organization acts the part of the fence 
around the pasture where Bill’s horses are 
running. The old plug leaders is there 
and the crowd run after ’em but the fence 
stops ’em from going very far. You see 
the fence is put up on established princi- 
ples, in which the rights of men and prop- 
erty are settled and the bounds staked out 
by a force which the old plugs, men or 
horses, are bound to respect. Now you 
turn a lot of horses loose on the prairie 
and the meanest horse you’ve got will lead 
the whole bunch clean off to his old stamp- 
ing ground. Then you see they ain’t no 
use to 3'ou nor to themselves and ten to one 
some man’s crop is a suffering. The mis- 
chief is to pay somewheres.you can bet your 
life. But now you just turn them horses 
into a pasture with a good religious fence 
with plenty of barbs on the top wire, and the 
next morning you know where they are. 
The horses ain’t changed none in disposi- 
tion, the old plug leader is there but he 
ain’t running the flesh off the bunch now; 
nor getting them into some man’s cornfield. 
I tell you horses ain’t no good onless 
they’re controlled by something they re- 
spect, and loose men ain’t no better than 
loose horses. Principles, organization and 
government is good things for both men 
and horses, but it’s mighty important 
which side of the fence your man or your 

horse gets to be.” 

CHAPTER XXIV.— SOMETHING HAPPENS. 

T he session of the Legislature 
which followed was most exciting 
and troublous. Action upon the 
main propositions was deferred from day 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 95 


to day, first by one and then Janother 
motion of delay. The minor points of dif- 
ference which argument had developed 
during and since the canvass were carefully 
kept alive and division fomented by every 
device known to the artful. So-called “great 
men," belonging to both the Democratic 
and Republican parties strayed casually 
into Topeka and were “invited" to speak 
upon the issues of the day. Upon one 
point both were agreed and on that much 
was said by the eminent men of either 
party. The sacredness of the right to have 
and hold property was enlarged upon and 
argued at great and most convincing 
length. After the speeches these eminent 
leaders were introduced, at different times, 
to the members of the Legislature belong- 
ing to their respective parties and with 
those who gave promise of becoming lead- 
ers, much time was spent in explaining the 
legal aspect of the proposed legislation. 
Flattered by the attention of men of 
national reputation, these began to waver 
in their adherence to the strict letter of 
the demands; the demands were well 
enough, something must be done but they 
were not in favor, now that they properly 
understood the matter, of anything which 
might savor of revolution. 

Matters were still further complicated 
by the promises made in the matter of the 
election of a senator. Upon this question 
party lines were strictly drawn and a 
heated and acrimonious discussion had so 
embittered the factions that no agreement 
appeared possible among them upon any 
question whatever. 

Thus the session wore slowly away and 
the fifty days’, for which the members re- 
ceived pay, at last expired and the •“de- 
mands" were still unheeded. Although at 
the outset a majority had favored them, 
this majority had yielded to the powerful, 
and as it appeared, convincing arguments 
of the visiting statesmen. However, 
a strong and united minority still re- 
mained who vigorously advocated the 


original demands, butit was a minor- 
ity. 

The time for which members were paid, 
having expired, one after another left for 
home, but before an adjournment was fin- 
ally had the Democrats got together and 
passed a set of caustic resolutions laying 
all the blame of non-action in important 
matters upon the wicked and monopolistic 
Republicans. The Republicans, not to be 
outdone in this matter, with the assistance 
of a certain Senator possessed of a vitriolic 
tongue and pen, also concocted “an ad- 
dress to the people," in which they recited 
at length, the doings of the wicked and 
whisky loving Democrats; charged them 
with the commission of every crime in the 
calendar and credited them with a desire la 
invent new ones that they might commit 
them and upon these degraded beings they 
rightfully placed, so they said, the onus of 
the existing situation. 

The minority also came out with what 
they termed “A Plain Statement," in 
which they showed the manner in which 
the proposed legislation had been de- 
feated. 

After the adjournment the newspapers 
throughout the state which had originally 
opposed the demands, came out simultane- 
ously with a great shout of approval. 
Revolutionary and anarchistic doctrines 
had now received their death wound, and 
would expire. People, said they, had at 
last come to their senses and would no 
longer follow revolutionary and communis- 
tic leaders who aimed at the destruction of 
society. The farmers, however, were ex- 
asperated and moody; their scheme had 
failed. At first but little was said; grad- 
ually they began in public assemblies to 
formulate and express their opinions and 
it was noticed that a large share of their 
wrath was directed at the political leaders 
and organizations that had so plainly frus- 
trated their efforts for relief, and as the 
feeling among them that they had been 
defrauded, grew and increased, here and 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


96 

there throughout the state, unwarranted 
liberties were taken with men who as mem- 
bers of the legislative body had failed to 
carry out ante-election promises. A num- 
ber were visited at the dead hour of night 
by committees supplied with tar and fea- 
thers, which they in a most illegal manner 
proceeded to apply. Some were taken by 
masked men and stripped and beaten until 
they promised, if released, to undo the 
work which they had done, when given an 
opportunity. As this proceeded the farm- 
ers’ organizations at once awoke and took 
most active steps in opposition. Resolu- 
tions were passed expelling any member 
guilty of illegally taking part in demon- 
strations of a riotous character and inves- 
tigations set on foot to discover the perpe- 
trators of outrage and the result of these 
showed most conclusively that “bummers” 
and hangers-on are in almost every in- 
stance the curse of either armies or organ- 
izations. And although the reign of tar 
and feathers quickly came to an end, dis- 
countenanced as it was by the better ele- 
ments of the state, it is yet doubtful 
whether salutary effects were not produced 
by these overt acts of lawless citizens. 
But all agreed that they should come to an 
end. 

As the season advanced, and Spring with 
the returning warmth of the benignant 
and all creating sun began to cause the 
thoughts of the farmers to return to their 
fields again, the wrath of the agriculturists 
did not abate, as had been the expectation 
of some. 

Public meetings increased in size and 
fervor and many declared that until mat- 
ters of importance were settled they did 
not care longer to cultivate land merely 
that others might reap the results of their 
toil. So great was the excitement through- 
out the State that attention was attracted 
to Kansas in all parts of the country and 
the great city dailies contained standing 
“stare heads,” which called attention to 
the situation in Kansas. As discussion 


proceeded, a demand was gradually evolved 
that Gov. Clover summon the legislature 
in extra session to take action which should 
fairly represent the sentiment of the peo- 
ple of the State. In the excited state of 
public feeling, business came, very large- 
ly, to an end and anong business men the 
call for an extra session found favor, who 
had previously opposed the “demands” as 
revolutionary. It began to be plain to 
them that something radical must really 
be done, as without an earnest effort was 
really made to pacify the excited people, 
they began to fear social disorder of the 
worst type. 

The farmers held solidly to their orig- 
inal demands and many who had hereto- 
fore been only luke-warm in their support, 
spoke in the most decided manner in favor 
of even more radical measures. Proposi- 
tions of compromise of one kind or another 
were made in almost every prominent 
journal and, in short, the air was full of 
what appeared to be a coming storm. 

Mr. Grafton as an official of the Alli- 
ance was engaged in delivering addresses 
to the farmers’ assemblies at various places 
in the State, in which he counseled the 
greatest care in obeying the laws and pre- 
serving the peace, as well as a united 
front against compromise of any charac- 
ter. As he was speaking at a gathering of 
farmers, near Atlanta, a disturbance arose 
in the audience caused by the interruptions 
of a drunken man, who wore the star of a 
detective. Mr. Grafton bore pleasantly 
with the taunts of the creature, who from 
time to time continued to apply himself to 
a bottle with which he was supplied. Fin- 
ally he became so obstreperous, supported 
as he was by a little knot of men who had 
come upon the grounds with him, that it 
was impossible to proceed and Mr., Grafton 
paused and said: 

“Friends, it is impossible to proceed in 
this manner. That man must be removed.” 

“Come and do it yourself,” said the now 
infuriated man, adding an oath. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


97 


As no preparation had been made to en- 
force order, no one started to do the neces- 
sary work of removing the creature, who 
now losing all control of himself began in 
the most obscene and profane manner to 
scream with rage, frightening the women 
and children, who in large numbers were 
present. Seeing that something must be 
done at once, Gratton went toward the 
man, followed by some of the more reso- 
lute among the farmers. As he came near 
the man flourished a revolver and bade 
the crowd defiance, but Grafton kept 
steadily on: 

“You are a disturber of the peace, and 
as a citizen I arrest you,” said he, but be- 
fore he could reach him the man fired and 
Grafton dropped to the ground. 

Immediately there was a scene of wild 
disorder, women screamed, children be- 
gan to cry and men to curse and swear and 
rush toward the point of disturbance. The 
villain was quickly seized and disarmed and 
a cry went up of: 

“Hang him! String him up! Kill the 
thief!” Reason appeared to have com- 
pletely disappeared and its place to be 
taken by a wild, ungovernable fury which 
converted the gathering of peaceable and 
easy going farmers into a howling mob, 
for the moment ungovernable in its char- 
acter. A lariat rope was quicklj* taken 
from a pony tethered near and as quickly 
placed about the neck of the miscreant 
and he was hurried to a little distance from 
the scene of his crime where a suitable 
tree was standing. 

Grafton lay upon the ground where he 
had fallen. .Most of the men, crazed as 
they were with rage, were engaged in 
hurrying the murderer towards the fatal 
tree, which already a young man had 
climbed and was making signals that the 
end of the rope might be thrown to him. 
As the wretch who had caused their fright 
was dragged away, the women gathered 
about the wounded man. A lady sat upon 
the ground and taking Grafton’s head in 


her lap directed the crowd to stand back. 
Tearing open his shirt front a brother far- 
mer exposed the fatal wound; a small 
bullet hole in the left breast with but a 
drop or two of blood upon the surface told 
the story. He was bleeding inwardly and 
would soon be gone. He was yet conscious 
and as the death damp gathered upon his 
brow he made feeble signs for water and 
when his want was supplied he slowly and 
painfully said: 

“Don’t let them hang him he 

was drunk.” 

Meantime, although the rope was in 
place over a limb of the tree which had 
been chosen, the crowd revolting from the 
idea of murder, had halted temporarily in 
its work and sent some of their number to 
make sure whether Grafton was really 
dead. Coming to where he lay, these, 
seeing the wounded man with white face 
and exposed wound, from which trickled 
now and then a drop of blood, slowly sink- 
ing, without sign of life, other than the 
sigh like respirations which grew more 
and more infrequent from moment to 
moment, were seized with that intense 
sympathy which the sight of bloodshed in 
a righteous cause is sure to bring to the 
most hardened and unthinking, and return- 
ing hurriedly, themselves seized the end 
of the rope and began to pull upon it. In- 
stantly hands in plenty laid hold and the 
wretch was dangling in the air. 

“The best laid schemes o’ mice and men, 

Gang aft a-gley, 

And lea’e us nought but grief and pain 
For promised joy." 

“Still thou art blest compared wi’ me! 

The present only toucheth thee. 

But ochl I backward cast my ee 
On prospects drearl 

And forward, though I canna see, 

I guess and lear.’’ 

Robert Burns. 

Who that is able to look back upon a 
checkered life, can fail to acknowledge 
that he has been “led in a way he knew 
not?” The future ever appears capable of 
control, but when it is past we are forced 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


98 

to the conclusion that we are, and must re- 
main, totally unconscious of the hidden 
springs from whence come the motives 
which impel us to the course we pursue. 
This man lives a fortunate life and that 
one is pursued by the slings and arrows of 
outrageous fortune. And why? Is it said 
that the one is wise in choice and careful 
in council, and the other unwise and fool- 
ish in his ways and that thus they them- 
selves have made the beds in which they 
lie? And who does not know that this in- 
stead of being an answer is but a begging 
of the question? For who made the one 
wise and the other foolish? Themselves? 

_ And can a man make himself do or be any- 
thing not provided for in the secret recesses 
of his mental being when, like the infant 
oak within the acorn’s germ, he first is 
fashioned as a thought of God? And shall 
the oak pride and praise itself that it is not 
a pine? 

Than what they are, the oak and the pine 
could be nothing less and nothing 
more. 


Mr. Ellery was sauntering down the 
street upon a pleasant Spring-like day, 
when he met the station agent, who was 
also the only telegraph operator of the 
town, who said: 

“I have a telegram for Miss Grafton 
which you ought to know of. Her father 
has been killed." 

The kind-hearted preacher was so horri- 
fied and astounded by what he heard that 
for the moment he could make no sound 
and stared blankly at the man. At last he 
found tongue to say: 

"How did it happen? Where was he?" 

"It was at a picnic near Atlanta in Coles 
County; somebody shot him and they hung 
the fellow up without judge or jury. This 
I get from the wires that are sending it all 
over the country. The telegram gives no 
particulars. You better open it." 

Taking the terrible missive in his hands 
Mr. Ellery opened the envelope and read: 


Atlanta, Kansas, 

To Mary Grafton 

Plainville, Kansas. 

Your father was shot and killed near here 
yesterday. Will come with the body to-morrow . 

James Greene. 

Putting the paper in his pocket Mr. El- 
lery went at once to the house and without 
circumlocution told his wife the sorrowful 
news. She, poor lady, with true womanly 
sympathy exclaimed, as the tears filled 
her eyes: 

"Oh! Oh! My poor Mary. What will 
my dear girl do? What can she? I shall 
fear to tell her. She was bound up in her 
father’s welfare and day and night her 
thoughts were with him." 

"But you must tell her," said Mr. El- 
lery, "and no doubt as it is known on the 
street some one will tell her as she comes 
from school if you do not. You must go 
to the schdol-house and bring her home at 
once." 

CAAPTER XXV. — THE ORPHANS. 

H astily putting on her bonnet and 
shawl, Mrs; Ellery started for the 
school-house. Conning over in her 
mind the means she should use in man- 
aging the difficult and most distressing er- 
rand upon which her unwilling feet were 
carrying her, she was soon at the door, 
and although different plans had in turn 
presented themselves to her mind, she had 
been unable to decide upon anything defin- 
itely. Opening the door she stepped at 
once, inside resolved at last, that having 
no plan, she would restrain her own 
emotions and act with the best judgment 
furnished her by - the inspiration of the 
moment. As she entered Mary with beam- 
ing face and animated manner was engaged 
in describing to a class of little ones taking 
their first voyage of geographical dis- 
covery, the wonders of the world we in- 
habit. Interested herself in the subject 
she was endeavoring to portray, the chiP 
dren hung upon her words with rapt at- 
tention. Still for the moment undeter- 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


99 


mined, Mrs. Ellery sank into a seat and 
waited her opportunity. Nodding pleas- 
antly to her, Mary continued her work. 
Sitting there and noting the beautiful 
form and face, and the ease with which she 
guided the minds of her little hearers and 
realizing the terrible shock and despair 
which was in store for her, Mrs. Ellery 
could not refrain from feeling like a guilty 
thing, in that she w’as preparing to destroy 
present happiness and plunge the poor girl 
into a sea of misery. 

As ever with her, in moments of trouble, 
her thoughts ascended to that “present 
help” upon which her mind had come to 
lean “God help her,” thought she, “and 
may I be enabled to render that service to 
a fellow creature to which every considera- 
tion of love and duty impel me.” 

Occupied with her anxious thoughts, the 
poor woman for the moment forgot her de- 
termination and as the ready tears sprang 
to her eyes half a sob escaped her. Hastily 
wiping her eyes she looked up to see if she 
had been observed. But the keen and ob- 
servant glance of the young teacher had 
already noted the trouble depicted upon 
her countenance and hastily dismiss.ing 
her little class came at once to her side. 

“Something troubles you, aunt,” she 
said, “what is it, can I assist you?” 

“Yes, ’’said she, “there is trouble enough 
at our house. You must dismiss your 
scholars and go home with me.” 

“But school will soon be out, will not 
that answer?'* 

“No, dear, don’t question me, but come 
at once.” 

Dismissing her charges, who with won- 
dering faces gathered about her, eager for 
the reason of the unusual proceeding, she 
gave this one a pleasant word and the next 
a pat upon the cheek as she prepared to 
close the door. 

“Children,” said Mrs. Ellery, “you must 
all run home and not trouble Miss Mary 
now, as I wish to talk to her. Charlie, 
vou must go right along with us.” 


Taking the arm of her friend as they set 
out, Mary said: “What is it aunt, has any 
thing happened to Mr. Ellery?” 

“Yes,” said the other, inwardly seeking 
pardon for the deception, “Mr. Ellery is 
in deep trouble at the house; don’t ask me 
further until we get there.” 

As they passed through the principal 
streets of the little village, the sympathetic 
and sorrowful faces of the people they 
met, struck poor Mary with a deep and in- 
definable dread. Setting out with the idea 
that duty was calling upon her to minister 
to the sorrows of others, somehow the 
feeling grew that she was principally con- 
cerned. What could it be? Had anything 
happened to her father? And instantly 
the thought formed itself in her mind that 
all was well with him. In whatever situ- 
ation placed, he had done his duty and 
quietly and bravely met whatever of good 
or ill had been given him as his portion. 
The spirit within him had sustained him. 
Her spirit should sustain her and whatever 
burden of sorrow or care might be placed 
upon her shoulders she would accept and 
bear it as became the daughter of so true a 
man. 

How wonderful are the daily evidences 
of mind upon mind? Fix your thought in- 
tentl}’- upon another and if not attracted 
by something going on about him, he 
turns to you as the needle to the pole, to 
discover the source of the unexplained at- 
traction. And does this end with life? 
And if the soul still lives, why may it not 
continue to exert a power which does not 
depend upon the sight, touch or hearing of 
that physical body which has alone de- 
cayed? 

Walking along the street the unseen in- 
fluences emanating from the people she 
met — and who will hasten to bar his 
thoughts against the hallowed influences 
which may come from those “angels which 
do always behold the face of My Father?” 
— had convinced the mind of the devoted 
girl that upon her head was shortly to fall 


lOO 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


a crushing blow, and as surely pointed her 
thoughts in the true direction. 

Her resolution was taken; she would 
meet whatever came with fortitude. That 
for the moment the spirit of her father was 
with her she felt rather than knew; and 
who shall deny ? 

Coming to the house, Mrs. Ellery di- 
rected their steps to the front door, con- 
trary to the usual custom of the family. 
This of itself was a revelation to Mary; she 
already knew the worst. 

As they entered, Mr. Ellery met them, 
and opening the parlor door they all went 
in and sat down. Taking out his handker- 
chief Mr. Ellery began to wipe his eyes, 
while his wife burst into tears; but Mary 
sat with rigid face, the only sign of the 
commotion within, the passionate workings 
of her clenched and bloodless hands. 

As Mrs. Ellery’s feelings were now be- 
yond control, the preacher, also deeply 
affected by the play of emotion about him, 
began in a hesitating and stammering 
fashion: 

“Prepare yourself, my dear for — for 

the worst.” 

“lam prepared,” said she, and as she 
spoke so hoarse and strange was the sound 
of her voice that she wondered if indeed it 
was her own. 

“Your father, Mary,” he brokenly be- 
gan, but she did not wait for him to finish. 

“I know it all,” she said, “he is dead. 
Tell me the particulars. And may God 
call me to account if I fail to remember the 
reason of the death of both my father and 
my mother.” 

She could no longer remain in her chair, 
and rising she stood pale and defiant, her 
hands twitching nervously, one with the 
other Upon the table she saw the 
crumpled bit of yellow paper upon which 
was written the telegram. Taking it in 
her hands she read it calmly through. 

“Where is Charlie?” said she: “he fol- 
lowed us through the street.” 

Going to the window she saw him just 


at the door playing with a dog belonging 
to a neighbor. Quick as a flash she was at 
the door and down ihe steps. Seizing him 
by the hand she hurried him within the 
house. Taking him on her lap, “big boy” 
though he considered himself she kissed 
him again and again. 

“Ah! you poor little orphan,” said she, 
“they have killed our father. It might 
have been expected. We might have 
known it would be so. Now you are all 
that is left to me.” 

Boy like, Charlie began to cry, and the 
natural womanly tenderness, which for 
the moment had been in abeyance, asserted 
itself, as with incoherent sobbings and 
mingled caresses she fondled the only re- 
maining member of her family. Gradually 
she became calm again. “And what must 
we do now?” said she. 

“Why my child, you need do nothing. 
We will see that the necessary prepara- 
tions are made,” said Mrs. Ellery, who by 
this time could trust herself to speak. 

“Ah, I must, I cannot be still. I should 
go mad to sit and think. I jvill not again 
be so weak. Dear aunt, you have been so 
kind to us and I know you will bear with 
me now, but I must be employed at some- 
thing. Please let me help? There will be 
so much to do.” 

“Why Mary, you know I was thinking 
only of you,” said Mrs. Ellery, “and if it 
would please you better, do what you think 
best." 

“The short and simple annals of the 
poor,” are after all not so easily. told. 
Human hopes and fears, with intelligent 
people, are much the same in whatever 
walk or station of life fate or fortune may 
place them. Hope beckons to all and 
allures us on. Pleased to the last we greet 
with joy the swift coming days that bear 
us on to a fate hid behind the curtain of 
the future, and that curtain -the pall. 
Yet does not hope desert us, but like an 
angel of light still bears us company upon 
the dreary road of life and with her sweet 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


lOI 


whisperings of a life beyond, beguiles us 
still. Beguiles? Ah, and hath hope a 
partnership with guile? Blessed vision! 
art thou, too, a vain chimera of that im- 
agination of man which forever bewilders 
but to deceive? 

Perish the thought! It cannot, must not 
be. Hope is the evidence of sanity; the 
proof that we are. For whom she hath 
utterly deserted and forsaken has become 
a maniac and ceased to be. 

Tossing upon her bed, now lost in 
dreams and now staring with wide open 
eyes into the dark whose depths revealed 
no friendly face, Mary wore the night 
away. Again she was a child and felt her 
mother’s hand resting in peace upon her 
thoughtless head and as she awoke and 
felt her -loss an unutterable longing for 
death seized upon her. Oh, that she could 
but die and leave a world so full of trouble 
as this. But the thought of Charlie re- 
called her Dear little fellow, she would 
live for him. Again in dreams, her 
father’s proud and kindly gaze was upon 
her, his face was white as the light, care 
there was none and peace had come. She 
woke with a start. Alas! was there noth- 
ing real but sorrow and pain. 

Slowly the morning dawned and day at 
last appeared. A funeral day! His funeral! 
But she would be brave She would so 
live and act as to meet their approval. If 
they knew? Did they know? Surely 
what was so much desired must be true. 
No deep and holy longing of the soul could 
fail in its mission. It would not return 
void to the heart of love 

The contents of the telegram known, 
the idle population of the little village 
gathered at the station as the train drew 
up. An elderly, kindly faced man in a suit 
of gray, was the only passenger to alight. 
Walking forward to the express car he as- 
sisted the messenger in depositing upon 
the platform the rough box containing the 
coffin. A few hurried words with the sta- 
tion agent, who came to the corner of the 


platform and pointed to Mr Ellery’s house 
and the stranger walked rapidly towards 
the point to which he had been directed. 
He had gone but a few steps when he met 
Mr. Ellery, hastening to the train. 

“You are Mr. Greene, I suppose,” said 
he. 

“Yes,” said the man, “and you are Mr. 
Ellery; I have come upon a sorrowful er- 
rand. I was instrumental in inducing my 
friend Grafton to undertake the work in 
which he lost his life and now I am here to 
bury him.” 

A few words of consultation with friends 
who stood near, a little time spent in ar- 
ranging the preliminaries and the coffin 
was deposited in the parlor at the parson- 
age. 

The funeral ceremonies were as with 
others, cold, formal and silent. Many 
were in attendance, for the tragic nature 
of his death attracted those to whom mere 
respect would have appealed in vain. 

Mary and Charlie, with Mrs. Ellery, 
took their last look in the parlor and alone. 
No one was near and no one knew the 
agony of that hour. Afterward no sign 
was made. Heavily veiled the daughter of 
the murdered man betrayed to the casual 
beholder no emotion, and thus the weary 
waitings and solemn pauses of the funeral 
went by, to her, unheeded and uncon- 
trolled. 

After all was over, the family at the par- 
sonage gathered in the parlor and Mr 
Greene related the particulars of the 
death, paying the highest tribute ‘possible 
to the courage and devotion of him who 
had gone. Mary asked but few questions; 
she seemed to know it all. Charlie re- 
garded all tearfully, but to his sister his eyes 
returned and from her he took the color 
of his thoughts, indeed he seemed to re- 
ceive his impressions as reflected from her. 

Days came and went, the nine days’ 
wonder of the tragedy had ceased to at- 
tract, but from it, in part, proceeded a 
still stronger determination to press to a 


102 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


decision the question which Grafton had 
propounded and for which the public came 
to believe he had sacrificed his life. 
Monster petitions were circulated asking 
the governor to convene the Legislature. 
Immense meetings fired with zeal were 
held at different places throughout the 
State and enthusiasm was at fever heat. 
Again the partisan presses of the State 
acknowledged by their plaintive tones, the 
truth, that public opinion is the master of 
all and to it, perforce, they bowed once more. 

Finally Governor Clover issued his proc- 
lamation calling an "extra session,” 


CHAPTER XXVI. — WRANGLING. 

A S the legislators began to gather at 
Topeka, all thought was, for the 
time, concentrated upon the de- 
mands which had been made by the farm- 
er’s organizations. Strong ground was 
taken both for and against and it became 
evident that dilatory tactics would no 
longer avail. 

The opposition based their claims to sup- 
port upon the asset tion that the proposed 
legislation would be an act of bad faith 
and practical repudiation. 

On the other hand it was argued that the 
political compact which forms the founda- 
tion upon which all just States and nations, 
and even civilization and liberty itself are 
placed, requires all legislation to be based 
upon the general public good. 

The State was simply the agent of the 
whole people and any intervention in the 
private affairs of her citizens could only 
be allowed upon the supposition that 
thereby the general good ot all would be 
secured. Legislation upon any ground 
than the general good was tyrannical and 
unjust. The State did not interfere in 
the dealings ot citizens and proceeded to 
the forcible collection of debts due from 
one to another, not upon the ground of 
favoritism to the creditor, but simply be- 
cause it had been supposed and held, that 
this forcible interference had been for the 


general good, and if it could be shown that 
such interference and assistance rendered 
to one party, was contrary to the best in- 
terests of the general public, that there- 
fore such legislation was opposed to all 
the requirements of a just public policy 
and therefore void and the ver}^ ground 
upon which it was placed was not only un- 
republican in theory and untenable in law, 
but vicious, tyrannical and unjust in its 
effects. 

Previous to the meeting of the legisla- 
ture those who had engaged to support the 
demands were called together that they 
might take counsel one with the other. 
These came from the ranks of all parties, 
but as the previous season had taught them 
that a closer union was an absolute neces- 
sity, and that they could not succeed if 
they allowed the claims of other organiza- 
tions, the natural and inevitable result was 
the formation of a new party that bound 
its members to support and defend the 
course marked out. Having secured this 
closer organization the lower house at 
once passed the two bills, prepared at the 
previous session, staying the foreclosure 
of all real estate mortgages and the col- 
lection of interest upon the same for the 
space of two years and abrogating the col- 
lection of all debts by force of law, which 
might be contracted on and after the 
fourth day of July, next succeeding. 

The Senate refused to concur and pro- 
posed amendment after amendment, but 
the House remained immovable. 

After much time spent in wrangling had 
passed, the House, by a majority resolu- 
tion, adjourned, and the members repaired 
to their homes, with the understanding 
that their speaker should at once call them 
together whenever the Senate was ready 
to pass the original bills. The Senate re- 
mained in session, and issuing an address 
to the people, in which the capitalistic side 
of the controversy was most ably and cun- 
ningly stated, appeared to be preparing 
for a long and arduous struggle. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


103 


No sooner had the House of Representa- 
tives adjourned than excitement among the 
people ot the State became intense. . Pub- 
lic meetings were everywhere held, at- 
tended by vast crowds of people. Eminent 
men upon both sides made the welkin ring 
with their denunciations, and feelings rose 
quickly to fever heat. 

Those who held to the justice and ex- 
pediency of the demands made originally 
by the farmers, from their constant refer- 
ence to the rights of the people, came 
gradually to be called and to call them- 
selves the “People’s Party," and they 
dubbed their opponents “Monopolists” and 
“Tories.” 

The so-called monopolists, however, 
sought to take high moral ground in all 
their addresses, and spoke chiefly of the 
sacredness of the rights of property, the 
inviolability of contracts and descanted 
at great length upon “public honor,” 
“plighted faith” and the rights of “in- 
vestors.’' 

The others in making reply denied any 
intention of interfering with the rights of 
property and demanded that those who 
held bonds, notes and mortgages as prop- 
erty, should not be placed in a position to 
impose upon those interested in property 
of another kind. “It is,” said they, “a 
struggle between the holders of two classes 
of property and the dealers in money, 
notes and mortgages refuse to be satisfied 
unless they and their interests are placed 
in a preferred position, where they are en- 
abled to impose upon the holders of pro- 
ductive property, while they themselves 
produce nothing of value.” 

Thus the struggle went on and the ex- 
citement showed no signs of abatement. 
In many places riotous proceedings were 
indulged in and a general feeling of unrest 
and alarm began to take possession of the 
public mind, 

Plainville showed but little change. 

“Uncle Bill” continued to hammer away 


in his little shop and Mr. Ellery to deliver 
his weekly sermons. As elsewhere, the 
people took sides and the questions which 
agitated the public mind were discussed 
with great heat and earnestness. As the 
people of the village were in close sym- 
pathy with the farmers, depending entirely 
upon them for whatever business the town 
enjoyed, feeling was almost altogether 
with them. Upon rare occasions those 
more interested in what was going on 
around them went to Branchville to attend 
a “big speaking,” when some noted man 
held forth upon one side or the Dther, in 
the great controversy*, but for the most 
part the place was sleepy enough. 

Mary was often seen in company with 
Mrs. Ellery upon the street or riding in 
the rather antiquated carriage which the 
preacher called his own. She had finished 
her school, with only a week’s intermission 
at the time of her father’s funeral and now 
during the Summer vacation was very 
quietly engaged in assisting Mrs. Ellery 
both in the household and in the usual 
visiting and managing considered the duty 
of a pastor’s wife. No Sunday school 
picnic was, or as it seemed, could be con- 
ducted to a successful end without her aid. 
Everyone deferred to her and whatever she 
advised seemed to all concerned the thing 
to do. In appearance she had changed but 
little; mild, gentle and cheerful a slightly 
increased seriousness rather added to the 
charm of manner with which kind nature 
had invested her. That the trials of life 
have for all who will heed, a useful and 
beneficial end, was manifest in her. 

How often do we see the petted and 
spoiled children of luxury, enervated by 
ease and made fretful by a constant bend- 
ing to that will which must needs be 
broken and crossed, humbled and many 
times cast down, ere the true lesson of time 
be learned. For without this the wayward 
scholar in the school of life remains for- 
ever ignorant of those sublime glimpses 
into the depths which make the mind of 


104 GRAFTONS OR 

man or woman the kingdom it is destined 
in riper natures to become. Children we 
are and children we must remain, ever 
looking for the unfolding of that time when 
we shall be able to read the riddle of our 
lives. 

As may be surmised, an occasional letter 
had reached Plainville, written by George 
Maitland. From California where he had 
tarried during the Winter, he had passed 
to Alaska and his description of the great 
glacier and of the wonders of this terra 
incognita were eagerly read by the little 
circle at the parsonage. Generali}' his let- 
ters had been addressed to Mr. Ellery; 
parts of these, however, that gentleman 
glancing hurriedly over the pages, had 
failed to read to his ready listeners. A 
few had been directed to Mary and these 
and their lively and most entertaining 
contents were most readily shared with 
her friends. In one of these he had said 
that on his return to his home in Massachu- 
setts he should again call upon his friends 
in Kansas, but he had named no date and 
his immediate advent had not been expected 

That the people at the parsonage were 
surprised when, one fine Summer morning 
he made his appearance and claimed their 
hospitality, may very readily be imagined, 
for everything which has not become by 
constant repetition, hackneyed and usual 
is met by the natural mind with wonder 
and amazement, more or less pronounced. 

Maitland’s absence from Kansas and 
her who had inspired in his heart that gen- 
uine admiration of substantial qualities, 
which is alone the sure ground of a lasting 
and life-long love, had served but to in- 
crease his appreciation and respect for 
what he had come to regard as a perfect 
character. It was evident to him that, so 
far, at least, he had utterly failed to awaken 
in her that eminent regard for himself 
which he had come to feel was a necessity 
to his peace of mind and future success. 

The thought of Mary, which in his 
mind’s eye, had taken shape as that of a 


LOOKING FORWARD. 

beautiful vision and followed him in all his 
wanderings with a mild and seemingly 
heavenly radiance, had assumed, for him, 
a perfect form and an angelic significance. 
And yet, so wonderful is the power of an 
absorbing love, that when he had felt the 
pressure of her hand and looked into the 
liquid depths of her eyes he was convinced 
that the half had not been told — or even 
thought. 


CHAPTER XXVII. — THE DAWN. 

T hat we are the masters of our little 
destiny we verily believe. What 
we are, we have come to consider 
as the net result of our successes or our 
failures. But why should we believe this? 
Whose judgment regarding himself is of 
value, or in fact, is true? The “Autocrat” 
tells us that in every man exists a trinity of 
personages; namely, “the real John, the 
man others think John to be, and the sup- 
posititious and fanciful personage that John 
imagines himself to be.” And while this 
latter creation is fabulous and unreal, a 
mere distorted dream of an unsubstantial 
perception, yet is it made the ground work 
and very foundation of all John’s judg- 
ments regarding not only his past career 
but also the tremendous possibilities which 
for him may reach beyond the stars, or 
cease with the light of to-morrow’s sun! 

No wonder the wise old Greek declared, 
“know thyself,” to be the summing up of 
all his wisdom. But is not such knowledge 
wonderful for us? Can we attain unto it? 
Or, rather, is it not impossible? Upon so 
insecure and faulty a base can the structure 
reared be aught but insecure, unstable and 
misleading? 

But when we look awav from our puny 
selves and from the surroundings which 
come near forming a part of our lives, we 
see more clearly; that man is not a creator, 
never a first agent and that he moves only 
as he is moved upon. 

No man has ever created or “made” any- 
thing. His greatest and proudest effort 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD 


105 


has been but a changing in the form and 
place ot nature’s gift. The locomotive 
is a dream, materialized in steel. Its exe- 
cution the mere change in form and place 
of iron ore. At first, and principally, 
the iron horse is a conception of mind, a 
thought, a dream. And from whence come 
thoughts, dreams and conceptions? Does 
the third and most foolish “John” of the 
lot, create the sublime plans and conceptions 
now being slowly unfolded before the aston- 
ished gaze of an almost affrighted world? 

Nonsense! can we never learn that man 
is not the Creator; that the source of 
thought is exterior to man and that man 
lives only “by every word that proceedeth 
out of the mouth of God?” Look back, 
and away and see. The sublime poetry of the 
past assures us that the Spirit “moved upon 
the face of the waters” for the unfolding 
and advancement of all which has since ap- 
peared. And upon the poetical and his- 
torical truth of this, all men are agreed. 
What so-called practical people have 
named the “Spirit of the Age,” has ever 
been seen by all to be a controlling force 
in the affairs of men. 

As in the days preceding the war of the 
rebellion the prevailing and controlling 
thought of men was directed against an 
evil, so in the time of which I write, the 
thought of the day was being moved to 
consider yet other evils. The ferment of 
Democracy was leavening the public mind 
and although men still continued to hold 
out against its power, that it was gradually 
leavening the whole lump could not be 
disputed. The Spirit was moving upon 
the face of the waters. 

Maitland, too, had felt its power. His 
early conversations with Mary had put him 
upon a train of thought at that time new 
to him. Previously, he had given the sub- 
jects which she brought up no attention. 
He had been reading of late, he said, and 
trusted that something had been learned. 
Like new converts, too, he was full of zeal. 
Something must be done. 


Mr. Ellery had been giving Sunday 
evening “talks,” or lectures, in his church, 
upon subjects relating to the questions of 
the time, and he invited the young preacher 
to occupy his pulpit in this .course of lee-”" 
tures on the first Sunday after his arrival. 
His theme was, “The New Christianity,” 
by which he explained he meant the mod- 
ern application of the precepts of the re- 
ligion of Christ. 

The church was crowded to hear the 
young man, notices of the lecture having 
been given out in the morning, and here 
his college training stood him in good 
stead. He was what is called “a good 
speaker,” with fine voice and commanding 
presence, and although his enthusiastic 
advocacy of what seemed to his audience 
to be very radical and socialistic senti- 
ments, was listened to with the closest 
attention, they evidently scarcely knew 
just what to think or say. The abolition 
of competition and strife, and its replace- 
ment by association and mutual assistance, 
they appeared to think would be very fine 
in some future state of existence, but 
scarcely possible in this. But when, near 
the close of his address, summoning all his 
powers, he portrayed the results of such a 
course of action as he declared the gospel 
demanded, the effect upon his hearers was 
most marked. 

“By as much,” said he, “as thought is 
above money, love beyond strife, and duty 
higher than the promptings of selfish 
greed, let us, forgetting the things that 
are behind, press forward in the race 
toward that goal, now in the immediate 
future, which has ever held the eyes of all 
the poets and prophets of the past. If we 
but will it, the kingdom of Heaven is at 
hand.” 

Coming out of the little church Mary 
could not refrain from expressing the 
pleasure she felt in hearing what she had 
vainly endeavored to formulate, so well 
expressed. 

“You know, Mr. Maitland,” said she. 


I06 THE GRAFTONS OR 

"that our Plainville people had never 
heard you in public and I am sure they 
will be pleased with your address.” 

"And were you pleased?” said he. 

"Yes,” said she, quite frankly, "I was 
more than pleased. I was surprised.” 

‘ 'And may I ask why you were surprised?” 
said he. 

"No, I don’t think you should inquire 
too closely, but one thing does surprise 
me somewhat and that is that you should 
be able to give so fine a delineation of mo- 
tives and principles to which you almost 
refused assent only a few months ago.” 

"As to that,” said he, "lean only say 
that my attention had not been particularly 
called to these matters up to the time of 
my visit to Kansas.” 

Arrived at the parsonage Mr. Ellery and 
his wife joined in the warmest expressions 
of approval and endorsement. 

"I know now,” said Mr. Ellery, "just 
what it seems to me you should do, 
George.” 

'And what is it?” said he, 

"Speaking upon the impulse of the mo- 
ment, it appears clear to me that you 
should devote yourself to the spread of 
the ideas to which you have just given ex- 
pression. You are young, have abundant 
means and are not obliged to tie j-^ourself 
down to a stupid parish, or a set of stupid 
parishioners, and live in daily fear of say- 
ing something which they may not be able 
to receive. In your case and with your 
means and abilities I should take Wendell 
Phillips as my model and launch bravely 
forth as an agitator.” 

"Something of this kind has already 
passed in my thought,” said Maitland, 
speaking slowly and with evident hesita- 
tion, "and I presume that I could follow 
Phillips, at least, afar off.” 

"You would be hated and subjected to 
abuse, no doubt,” said Mr Ellery, "but 
when once fully enlisted in your work you 
would be happier far than in any other 
walk of life. People who know not of it. 


LOOKING FORWARD. 

cannot understand the enthusiasm for hu- 
manity which takes complete possession of 
the man who gives himself to the cause of 
human freedom. His work possesses him; 
and even common men and ordinary na- 
tures are touched as with a coal of fire 
from off the altar, by their advocacy of 
the imperiled rights of men.” 

Mrs. Ellery added a few words, saying 
that she thought Mr. Ellery right in what 
he had said, as he generally was. 

"And what do you say, Mary?” said Mr. 
Ellery. 

"Of course,” said she, "I am not compe- 
tent to advise Mr. Maitland as to what he 
should do, but this I know, that if I were 
he, nothing should prevent me from mak- 
ing myself heard.” 

As Mary spoke, so firm and determined 
were the tones and accent of her voice and so 
keen the flash of her eye as with unthinking 
force she expressed her thought, that Mrs. 
Ellery, who sat near her, said as she placed 
her arm about her: "Oh, you dear little 
rebel, they’d just have to hear you; though 
I’m sure they would wish to. I know I 
should.” 

Mary blushed as she said, "why, aunt, 
did I speak so strongly as that?” 

"Oh no, dear, you said nothing out of 
the way, but you are so earnest and deter- 
mined that I should not like to undertake 
to thwart you. I know we all ought to 
be positive and determined in a good 
cause.” 

"If you will speak upon these topics,” 
said Mr. Ellery, "I can put yon in com- 
munication with some parties who will be 
glad to make appointments for you. They 
will see that your expenses are paid and 
may possibly be able to give you some- 
thing beside, but it will be but little that 
they can do in that line. Although the 
work would not be remunerative the ex- 
perience would be valuable and you could 
in this way make trial of what, no doubt, 
would prove an interesting experience.” 

Long after the ladies had retired, the 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


107 


two gentlemen remained in earnest conver- 
sation; just what the subject of their con- 
ference might be did not appear, but that 
Maitland should undertake a series of ad- 
dresses seemed to be agreed before they 
separated for the night. 

As stated in the last chapter the State 
Senate still remained in session. On the 
adjournment of the lower House, efforts 
were made to bring influences to bear 
upon the Senators which should induce 
them to vote for the passage of the bills 
already passed by the representatives. 
Disturbances in various parts of the State 
and the angry remorstances of the people 
continued until the Senators began to fear 
that if they longer refused assent to the 
action of the House that civil discord of an 
aggravated kind might be the result. So 
upon the presentation of an immense peti- 
tion containing a majority of the voters in 
the districts represented by certain Sena- 
tors they signified their intention of voting 
for the bills. This broke the majority and 
with the passage of a resolution which was 
in the nature of a protest, the missing rep- 
resentatives were summoned, concurrent 
action was had and the bills were passed 
and quickly signed by the Governor. 

The victory was complete. Men saw 
that the voice of the people was the voice 
of God; that what had wrongfully been 
termed “public opinion” was not only a 
force, which when aroused, could not be 
turned aside or defeated, but that it was 
also identical with that power above man 
which has ever operated to secure the slow, 
yet continuous, development of the race. 

According to the terms of the bill, all 
laws for the collection of debts contracted 
subsequent to the fourth day of July were 
abrogated and annulled. Henceforth he 
who by the power of money secured an ad- 
vantage over his fellow men could not claim 
the power of the courts as an aid to his 
designs. Debt, said the agitators, that foe 
to liberty and chief arm of tyranny, will 
now be eliminated and destroyed. 


Great was the rejoicing among those who 
had from the first seen the causes of in- 
equality and injustice. This, said they, is 
the first step in the grand march of free- 
dom. The people have now turned their 
backs upon Pharaoh. They will go out of 
bondage and possess the land. But much 
remains to be done; the wilderness is yet 
to be passed and Pharaoh will yet pursue. 

The “glorious fourth” was now close at 
hand, and immediately upon the passage 
of the bills which had decreed the new 
abolition, a celebration had been arranged 
for Branchville upon that day, and Mait- 
land had been engaged as one of the 
speakers. Possessed of natural powers of 
a high order, these had been aided and 
assisted by an education which enabled 
him to grasp at a glance the full signifi- 
cance of the mighty movement yet in its 
incipiency. Entering into its spirit with 
all the ardor of yo*uth and the force of a 
thoroughly aroused purpose, he delivered 
the address of the day. The man had 
come to himself and into possession of 
powers till then unrevealed and unsus- 
pected. Heretofore he had known no 
overmastering incentive; reared in luxury, 
his every want supplied, the man had not 
known himself. Now controlled by a gen- 
erous purpose he threw himself, with all 
his force into the fray. 

The effect upon his audience was elec- 
trical, as with ringing voice and stalwart 
frame he paced the platform, now pictur- 
ing the beauty of that civilization which 
the future should yet prepare, and now in 
thunder tones denouncing the wrong and 
injustice of the past. “Yet I warn you,” 
said he, “that the battle is but begun. 
New foes will rise and upon new fields our 
courage and our valor must yet stand the 
test. Let us then, renewing our vows, re- 
consecrate ourselves to the cause of human 
freedom, conscious that the battle we 
wage is not alone for those who stand with 
us to-day, but . for all men and for all 
time.” 


io8 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Coming down from the speaker’s stand, 
hundreds pressed forward to take him by 
the hand. But his eyes sought out the 
little school teacher and the expression he 
read in her face outweighed the plaudits of 
all else beside. Evidently her opinion of 
his character and abilities was subject to 
change. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. — THE SUN RISES. 

LTHOUGH great rejoicing had 
accompanied the passage of what 
had come to be called "abolition 
bills,” no very marked change was percep- 
tible as an immediate result of their pas- 
sage On account of the agitation pre- 
ceding, ordinary business had for some 
time been done upon practically a cash 
basis. Merchants bought smaller bills and 
paid for them on receipt, or in ten or thirty 
days. On these terms those who possessed 
good reputations had no difficulty in 
procuring all the goods they could sell. 
That some who did not, should be "weeded 
out” was not a cause of very general sor- 
row. But the giving of long credits and 
the formation of large debts, subject as 
these had been to gnawing interest charges, 
came at once to an end, and in a general 
way, if people could not pay they did not 
buy. The passage of the " stay law” had 
stayed for a time, at least, the sending out 
of the state of immense sums of interest 
money, which in the aggregate were larger 
than all the surplus crops would bring in 
the market. Gradually it came to be seen 
by merchants and all classes of people 
that business was being conducted with 
greater ease and security and that the 
amount of money available in the hands of 
the people for the purchase of necessities 
was very slowly increasing. As a result 
too, of the new legislation a general feel- 
ing of hopefulness regarding the future 
began to spring up among those who had 
hitherto looked forward only with distrust 
and fear. It began to be seen that in the 
future the little accumulations of the la- 


borer would be placed upon a more secure 
foundation and that if successful in saving, 
his little hoard could not be taken from 
him by deep schemes aided by the law. 
What he got he had. Labor was protected. 
Men found out that business as it had 
been conducted, backed up by law wholly 
in the interest of the creditors was not 
widely different from gambling; in a game 
too, where all the winning chances were on 
the side of the "bank.” And it began to 
be clear that a state of society which com- 
pelled everybody to play at this game, and 
against those who in the long run were 
certain to win, could not be equitable or 
just. As for the future, the game had 
come to an end and people were heartily 
glad of it. Paying up the "gambling” 
debts of the past was however a serious 
matter and as was inevitable, caused, in 
some cases, serious trouble. Here and 
there people whose goods and chattels were 
mortgaged, were heartlessly sold out, but 
the public disapprobation of these acts was 
so marked and plainly expressed that but 
few were thus stripped of their property. 
Those who held mortgages upon goods and 
chattels, where their debtors could not pay, 
in order to secure their debts, very gen- 
erally took possession of the chattels mort- 
gaged, went through the forms of a sale 
and bought in the property. If the prop- 
erty thus acquired was necessary to the 
debtor as a means of making a living, as in 
case of a farmer’s team, public sentiment 
required — and it was very generally 
obeyed— that the property be loaned to the 
debtor for a limited time, with the op- 
portunity of purchase, for a fixed sum, 
within the limited time stated. And al- 
though a number of cases of hardships were 
reported in every community, as a result 
of the new regime, still in almost every 
deserving case friends came forward and 
by purchase prevented actual suffering. 

During the transition period through 
which the people of Kansas at that time 
passed, while affairs could not be said to 



THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD, 


be in a highly prosperous condition yet 
the feeling of confidence in the future grew 
and steadily increased. The present is not 
joyous, said they, but grievous, still when 
once we are freed from the results of our 
past errors it will be impossible to get us 
into such a state again. The future is 
secure. 

Hope made the trials of the time light 
when once debt was seen to be an evil 
which could be got rid of. And that this 
might be accomplished, people very gen- 
erally adopted means of saving that they 
had previously refused to employ, proving 
very conclusively that the actual and ab- 
solute necessities of life are indeed few 
and quite readily obtained. 

Although capitalists and money lenders 
had prophesied the ruin of business and 
the ’mpoverishment of the people, as a re- 
sult of legislation which they denounced in 
the most unsparing terms, the actual hap- 
penings refused to justify their predic- 
tions. As time passed on business in the 
towns slowly improved and merchants 
acknowledged that: “Although transfers 
are not large in amount, still we know each 
night how much wehave made, and are not 
obliged to balance in our minds the prob- 
abilities of collection.” 

And just here, too, took place the very 
opposite of what had been confidently pre- 
dicted by the opposers of radical legisla- 
tion: Land began very slowly to rise in 
/alue. Farms and residence property in 
the towns had fallen in value until it had 
been impossible to make sales at a figui e 
in excess of the mortgages which covered 
seven-eighths of the real estate of the 
State. But it began to appear, that under 
the laws, if one once owned land free from 
incumbrance that it would be impossible 
to take it from him and as the business of 
loaning money appeared to be losing the 
advantages heretofore assured to it by 
very partial laws those who had heretofore 
loaned money, with keen business percep- 
tion quickly saw that as real estate or land 


log 

was the ultimate security of all financial 
operations, that it offered almost the only 
opportunity for safe investment. In an 
agricultural State, too, controlled by farm- 
ers, they felt secure against future legisla- 
tion which might discriminate against land 
owners. So the policy of investors began 
to change, as very slowly and cautiously 
they began to bu3\ 

The staj' law had frightened the holders 
of real estate mortgages and they became 
anxious to exchange their claims for deeds. 
But as the law had put off the payment of 
mortgages and interest upon them for two 
years, owners were not very anxious to 
concede anything in the matter of values. 
Fearing, however, that at the end of the 
two years “stay,” another would be en- 
acted, holders of mortgages very gener- 
ally instructed their agents to buy the 
land upon which the}" held claims, at as 
low a rate as could be secured. 

But one result was possible; land in- 
creased in value and money became plen- 
tier in the hands of the people. He who 
held a large quantity of land sold off half, 
paid his mortgage and swore by all the 
gods at once, never to get into debt again 
— of course he would have one day broken 
so wise a resolution, if the laws had not 
been so arranged as to make him keep it. 
He who had an expensive farm sold it and 
bought a cheaper one, free from incum- 
brance, which was no sooner bought than 
he found himself able to sell again at an 
advance. Many farmers as well as town 
dwellers began to buy and sell, and upon 
each exchange they made a profit, because 
what they were dealing in was constantly 
rising in value and because money in the 
hands of the people was constantly increas- 
ing in amount. 

Beginning slowly and very gradually a 
few months saw a wonderful change in the 
condition of the great majority of the 
people in the State. Following the rise in 
real estate, property of all kinds quickly 
advanced. Kansas was upon a “boom.” 


no 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD, 


Business of every kind increased and all 
who wished to be were employed. Here- 
tofore every advance in the price of real 
estate or in the prospects of communities 
had been followed by a season of great de- 
pression upon the subsidence of the 
“boom,” from the fact that those who had 
been tempted by increasing prices to in- 
vest had heavily incumbered themselves 
with promises to pay. But this was now 
impossible. All transactions were for 
cash The promise of future payment had 
lost the power of law and debts were thus 
prohibited. What a man had he was sure 
of. Gambling in futures had received a 
set back. 

The farmers had “builded better than 
they knew,” and Kansas began to be herald 
ed abroad as the most prosperous State in 
the Union, as indeed it was. 

So plain and marked were the changes 
brought about by the passage o^ the “abo- 
lition bills” that the advantages conferred 
upon the people of the State were acknow- 
ledged by all and opposition was hushed. 
Even the money loaners had in a short 
time been able to increase their wealth 
vastly more by dealing in land than they 
had been able to do in their former busi-' 
ness. Under these circumstances the only 
people who seemed dissatisfied with the 
condition of affairs were those who having 
adopted the ideas of Henry George and 
“the single tax” upon land, prophesied that 
the evils of land monopoly would now 
shortly begin to appear. But what they 
said had but little weight with people who 
for years had found land unprofitable and 
unremunerative. 

So plain, too, had been the benefits 
flowing to all classes from the legislation 
secured by the political action of the 
united farmers, that other Western States 
hastened to adopt the same. And al- 
though the bondholders and financial 
authorities of the money centers used all 
their influence and spent much money to 
defeat the proposed legislation, still the 


result in Kansas was too plain, too thor- 
oughly known and too^ entirely bene- 
ficial, to be gainsaid or disputed, and with 
the best grace possible they submitted in 
one State after another to the defeats 
which had been in store for them. 

That the people of a whole State, sunk 
in debt and taxed with enormous interest 
charges, should so readily and easily 
escape from what appeared to be a coming 
and hopeless bankruptcy, appeared to most 
as the result of a miracle, or the direct 
favor of Providence, and yet all had been 
secured only as the direct result of the 
taking away of special and law granted 
privilege. 

I have thus hastily sketched some of the 
results attained within less than two years. 
Others were secured not here mentioned. 
The people were nearly freed from debt 
and the courts almost abandoned. Law- 
yers tramped the country roads searching 
for an opportunity to teach school or earn 
an honest livelihood, and the example of 
Kansas was an inspiration to the oppressed 
in every land. At the next regular session 
of the legislature a law was passed which 
exempted from all taxation a homestead, 
valued at $3,000, actually used and occu- 
pied by a family. The home whether in 
town or country, was thus freed from all 
taxation and the family protected and 
secured against its loss It could be sold 
outright, but not otherwise alienated. 

During all this time Maitland had been 
incessantly engaged. He was called for 
from every point of the compass, and, like 
the trusty soldier he was, he was ever 
found in the thickest of the fight Several 
times the forces opposed had seemingly 
been upon the point of gaining a victory 
and thus delaying the final and inevitable 
result, but each time his splendid powers 
and matchless oratory had turned the tide. 
Hopeful and buoyant, his speeches rang 
with good cheer and that hope and confi- 
dence in final victory which encouraged, and 
inspired success. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD 


III 


At the time of which I write he was in 
Iowa, engaged in the work which had em- 
ployed all his powers since his first effort 
at Branchvllle. 

The following letter written by him at 
that time will explain itself: 

Des Moines, Iowa, 

Rev. Mr. Ellery, 

My Dear Friend : — As you are aware we have 
gained a great victory and have now secured for Iowa 
the legislation which has resulted in so much good to 
Kansas. But we have only just begun and much re- 
mainslto be done. Our enemies taunt us with de- 
stroying credit and say that we have made it impos- 
sible for private parties to obtain large amounts of 
money for great and necessary works of public util- 
ity. This is doubtless true and from my standpoint 
is not the least of our victories Let us make it im- 
possible. For great works, the nation, the State, the 
county, or the municipality must in future take the 
place of private and irresponsible corporations and 
companies. At present many of these are our masters. 
In a republic the people in theory, rule. Let us not 
rest until this theory has been reduced to practice, 
for in no other way can we escape that taxation with- 
out repiesentation against which our revolutionary 
fathers rebelled. The money power, the railroads 
and the trusts, tax us freely; we are without repre- 
sentation upon their boards. 

Let us rebel. 

But I sat down to write for another purpose. I am 
coming down to see you 'again. From what you 
write I hope to receive a different answer from 
Mary Grafton from that given me, now more than 
two years ago. I felt terribly repulsed at the time, 
but it was the answer I should have been given. I 
ought to have known better. As sure as you live 
though, I think her influence has made a man of me. 
But I will not bother you with the thoughts of a man 
in love. You may expect me on Saturday the loth. 

As ever. Yours truly, 
George Maitland. 

CHAPTER XXIX. — SUNSHINE. 

1 r is now nearly seven years since our 
readers were introduced to the people 
of Plainville. Many changes have 
taken place and all our old friends show 
plainly the passage of time. Mr, Ellery 
had been for some years occupying the 
debatable ground between middle life and 
old age. Now the matter had been decided 
for him and it was clear that he was no 
longer young. But age with him, while 
frosty was yet kindly. Time had dealt 
gently with him and while the fire of youth 


had departed, yet was its place oetter filled 
by an increase ot that charity and hope for 
all, which age cannot wither nor custom 
stale. To meet him was a pleasure, to 
know him a benediction, and to be near 
him an assurance of high thoughts and 
noble impulses. His congregation felt all 
this and now had no thought of change. 
They did not know that what he was and not 
what he said was the source of love they felt 
for him. Yet so it was. In the troublous 
times through which they had passed he 
had never failed to speak clearly and 
plainly upon the topics of the day. All 
knew him to entertain the most radical 
opinions and yet his utterances had been 
tempered with so great and plain a love 
for all, in every station of life, that none 
dared take offense. 

Mrs, Ellery, dear, kind, motherly soul, 
had changed but little. Life to her was a 
pleasure. Long years before she had well 
learned the truth that self seeking surely 
ends in loss of that happiness for which 
all, without exception, seek. Early had 
she learned that from the very nature and 
constitution ot things selfishness defeats 
itself; that true happiness is always derived 
from an exterior source, and that it can 
only reach us as a reflection of that which 
elsewhere exists. Thatourlove can create 
happiness in others and that its reflection 
upon ourselves is absolutely the only 
source we have of true and lasting pleas- 
ure, she had mastered What wonder 
then that she was happy and beloved? 
With no thought of self she had devoted 
herself to the distressed and forsaken. None 
appealed to her motherly heart in vain; 
the sorrows of all were her sorrows and in 
their joys she rejoiced. Though pinched 
by “genteel poverty” herself, she had 
opened wide her door and her heart to 
Mary and the motherless boy, at time of 
their greatest need. But she had been re- 
paid by the love of the children, more fond, 
mayhap, than that of her own might have 
been. 


II2 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Mary — our Mary — now a beautiful woman 
of twenty-three, still taught in the village 
school. She had always been the pride of 
Plain ville, but now since her father’s tragic 
death she had been adopted as the daughter 
or sister of every loyal resident. With a 
pleasant nod for all she yet maintained 
that calm equipoise of manner which she 
could not hide, the superior soul. How 
much of Mr. Ellery’s radical stand for 
truth was due to her influence could not be 
determined; psychology and philosophy as 
yet are but words used for the concealment 
of thoughts which take hold upon the ver- 
ities of life. Much remains for which 
words afford no expression. And she her- 
self, whence did she derive that superior- 
ity which without a word from her, im- 
pressed itself upon all? The daughter of 
her father, were his hopes and aspirations, 
which in him had been but as the shadow 
of power, recreated in her to blossom and 
bloom with a fragrance and beauty which 
compelled that of which he only dreamed? 

Or was her life her own, and is each vital 
spark but a flame, whose source is the 
Eternal Light, which must needs take char- 
acter from the mortal body upon which it 
feeds? In all life, does not arrested and 
/imperfect growth result in evil and distor- 
tion? And is not the source of all the same? 

Charlie was now a bright boy of ten. 
His sister had exercised over him, as she 
had promised, a mother’s care, and with such 
a mother and such a household as that in 
which he found his home he could not be 
otherwise than obedient and affectionate. 

Plainville was ‘ looking up” they said. 
New buildings were appearing on every 
hand and an era of thrift and substantial 
improvement seemed setting in. No large 
and pretentious brick and stone palaces, 
constructed, with borrowed capital and 
covered with mortgages, to pamper the 
pride and eat and corrode the substance of 
the builders, were attempted, but better 
yet, the modest dwellings of the residents 
began to show, by here a coat of paint and 


here an added room or a new “piazza,” the 
solid and substantial progress of a people 
who having learned the hatefulness of bor- 
rowed finery were resolved henceforth not 
to spend money before they had it. 

Upon the receipt of Maitland’s letter Mr. 
Ellery resolved, like the true and loyal 
friend he was, to learn from Mary the 
probable result of the suit, which he had 
written he shouldagain resume. Of course 
Mrs. Ellery was to be the medium through 
whom the desired information might be 
obtained. Reading the letter to her, he 
said: 

“Don’t you think you ought to acquaint 
Mary with the substance of this letter and 
learn from her George’s probable answ’er? 
This would save them both someembarrass 
ment, and possibly pain.” 

“Perhaps so,” said she, “and yet I dis- 
like to appear to intrude. Affectionate and 
.loving as she is, yet no one would ever 
know the secrets of her heart unless she 
saw fit to reveal them.” 

“True enough, but I know George, now, 
intimately. I have been his confidant in 
this matter, you know. He means just 
what he says, and it occurs to me that as 
his friend I should make an effort to save 
him a possible refusal. Aside from the 
claims of friendship, the gifts we have re- 
ceived from him, surely call for at least, 
the effort to serve him. And as we are not 
called upon to exert any influence we may 
possess, but simply to find out the state of 
her mind, it does seem that you ought to 
make the attempt.” 

“It seems strange that we are obliged to 
ask her and that we have no idea what her 
answer may be,” said Mrs. Ellery, "and 
yet, when we think of her, as she is, we 
know that she would sooner die than re- 
veal by a look, a feeling which she might 
wish to conceal.” 

At the next favorable opportunity Mrs. 
Ellery said: 

“Mary, Mr. Maitland will be here on 
Saturday.” 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. II3 

“Will he? Well now we shall hear the Bill” grasped his hand with a terrible 
story of the Iowa campaign. Wasn’t that squeeze, saying: 

a grand speech at Fort Dodge? Even the “God bless you, Mr. Maitland for what 
Register could not 'refrain from words of you have done and for what I believe you 
praise.” will yet do.” 

“Yes it was grand, just to hear it read. And as Maitland, for the moment en- 
'but to have heard him deliver it must have gaged in conversation half a dozen others, 
been impressive indeed. But Mary, he is who gathered to speak a word of welcome, 
coming to again ask you to marry him, he said, sub voce, to Mr. Ellery: “I take 
and both Mr. Ellery and myself are back all I once said to you agin him,” indi- 
anxious to know whether you have an- eating Maitland with an inclination of the 
other refusal in store for him, or not.” head, “he is a royal man, if he is a 
Mary blushed, but her eyes were steady preacher, and now I shan’t say a word agin 
as she said: his carrying off our favorite. Poor Grafton, 

“Has he requested you to ask for him?” I hope his girl will be happy. She is a 
“No, indeed, he has no idea of such a splendid woman and the man that gets her 
thing, but our wish is to save you both will have a treasure, sure.” 
possible annoyance and pain. That is all. Arrived at the parsonage Mrs Ellery 
I am sure nothing would have induced me kissed the traveler as she would a son and 
to speak as I have if I did not know that appeared overjoyed to see him, but as 
you had once refused him.” Mary gave him her hand her usual self- 

Mrs. Ellery said no more. She knew possession failed her, she blushed deeply 
Mary too well to add anything to what she and the tell-tale color overspread her face, 
had said. Mary was silent; her eyes Presently she recovered, and the conver- 
sought the floor and only the clasping of sation became general regarding the Iowa 
her hands one with the other, revealed the campaign and the wonderful success which 
emotion within. At last she said, speaking had followed the efforts of the ‘agita- 
very slowly: tor,” as now he was willing to be called. 

“Mr. Maitland is a man whom I respect Mr. Ellery was so much interested in the 
and admire. Let him speak for himself.” details, as related by his friend, that he 
That was all, and although Mrs. Ellery had not noticed that Mrs. Ellery had left 
remained in an expectant attitude, the sub- the parlor where they sat. Casting his 
ject was not again alluded to. eye toward the open door he saw his wife. 

Speaking to Mr. Ellery of the matter who, standing where she was only to be 
afterward, she said: seen by him, stood, beckoning him to follow 

“Mary is a wonderful woman; she her. Excusing himself, asbest he could, in 
treated the matter as a queen might have a few moments, he too departed, 
done; gracious and cordial though she was, How it came about he never could tell, 
she yet reserved her thought. Of this, but no sooner had the Ellerys left the room 
though, I feel sure: George need not fear.” than Maitland seated himself by Mary’s 
Saturday came at last, as looked-for days side and took her hand. She did not with- 
have ever done, and with it the expected draw it. Emboldened he placed his arm 
arrival. Mr. Ellery was at the depot and around her and drew her head upon his 
warmly greeted his friend. On the way to shoulder. The ready tears, her mother’s 
the parsonage many hands were to be legacy, came into her eyes but he kissed 
grasped and hearty greetings exchanged, them away as he clasped her to his heart, 
for Maitland had now become not only a Whispered confidences and sweet em- 
noted man but a general favorite. “Uncle braces followed in rapid succession. How 


”4 


THF r.RAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


long they were thus employed neither 
knew, when Mrs. Ellery, with much rattling 
of doors, returned to summon them to sup- 
per, Rising, Mr. Maitland said; 

“Aunt Ellery, allow me to present the 
future Mrs. Maitland.” 

Mrs. Eller}’ could scarcely keep back the 
tears as she pressed her foster child to her 
heart. “Ah, children," said she, “you 
don’t know how happy I am for you, God 
bless you both." 

But little remains to be told. At the 
time of the marriage, which occurred shortly 
after Maitland’s return, the elder Maitland, 
now advanced in years and thoroughly 
proud of his gifted son, came to Plainville, 
entreating his old friend Ellery to return 
to Massachusetts with him, offering to place 
him in comfort for the rest of his days. 


But the old preacher would not listen to it. 
“I have put on the harness,” said he, “and 
I shall die at my post.” Not to be balked, 
however, the other, saying that he wished 
to have the privilege of subscribing to the 
“cause” settled $500 a year upon his old 
friend, which was regularly thereafter paid. 

John Busteed had been convicted of a 
crime and sentenced to the penitentiary, 
but his father secured a pardon for him 
and established him in business in Idaho, 
where report says he is “doing better." 

Charlie, although the little fellow scarce- 
ly knew what to make of the turn affairs 
had taken was completely assured by his 
sister who said; “You haven’t lost any- 
body, have you dear? You’ve only gained 
a big brother, ” (glancing shyly at Maitland) 
“and he is just as good as he can be too.’* 


IS THE WORLD GETTING BETTER. 


Whether the doctrine of man’s evo- 
lution from the brute be true or no, this 
at least is sure — much of the brute yet re- 
mains in man. With the brute the strange 
and unusual is to be fought and destroyed. 
Thus with the savage. The member of 
another tribe is fit only to die and be 
eaten. 

But cannibalism is no longer fashion- 
able, and even the thumb screw, the rack 
and the stake, as proof of the correctness 
of our tribe’s mode of thought, are passing 
away Yet the instinct which formed the 
impulse remains. Now we only hate the 
new thought and crucify — in our minds — 
the unwelcome truths of him who disturbs 
our fancied security. Nature still claims 
her tribute, and now that we can no longer 
put the innovator to death we bespeak him 
smoothly to his face and straightway pro- 


ceed to villify, denounce and misrepresent 
him. 

Ideas were not burned at the stake nor 
beheaded on the block, neither will they 
be killed or put to flight by the wolfish 
howl of the detractor. Revolutions al- 
ways advance. The world does more and 
they who would not lose their reckoning 
must learn to change their point of obser- 
vation. 

With the brute, to bear sway or hold 
dominion is the chiefest good. Beyond 
this, man in the mass has not advanced; 
even Sunday-school urchins being men- 
tally fed upon a diet of crowns and golden 
harps. Naturally, the average man de- 
sires, above all, to lord it over some one - • 
or many — weaker than himself That if 
he rules, others must wait and weep, is 
small matter to him Power he must have. 


THE GRAFTONS OR LOOKING FORWARD. 


Ownership of men’s bodies is old; the 
world has outgrown it, for tribute is a 
craftier trick. Debts demand tribute, in- 
terest is its life, and by means of bonds, 
bondage is enforced. Armies and navies 
exist but to defend them. The brutish in- 
stinct still [^survives and upon an exagger- 


115 

ation of debts the crafty few have taken 
their stand; when supported by the law- 
yer and the courts they overcome the 
land. 

Destroy the possibility of debt and the 
fabric of modern slavery crumbles into 
dust. 





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